


Good Luck, Kid

by BlueRobinWrites



Series: The Music Made Me Do It [8]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Based on the music of Joseph, Begins shortly after Lethal White, Canon Divergent, Character Death, Emotions, F/M, Heavy pining, Kind of a case fic...but not really, MANY MANY Emotions, Morning Sickness, Pregnancy, Road Trip, Slight Time Jump, Surrogacy, The Tottenham, much angst, multi chapter fic, not a case fic, sonogram
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 60,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25209298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRobinWrites/pseuds/BlueRobinWrites
Summary: In the aftermath of Robin being held at gunpoint, she works to rebuild her life and discover herself; in the process, she thinks she may have found a solution to Nick and Ilsa's struggle to conceive, but risks stopping a relationship with Cormoran before it can even begin.
Relationships: Cormoran Strike & Ilsa Herbert, Cormoran Strike & Nick Herbert, Cormoran Strike & Robin Ellacott, Robin Ellacott & Ilsa Herbert
Series: The Music Made Me Do It [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668514
Comments: 273
Kudos: 143
Collections: Musical Musings - Cormoran Strike Fic Exchange





	1. Revolving Door

**Author's Note:**

> Like most of my works, this story is based on music. By now I'm sure you all know that music is my biggest inspiration, even over Cormoran and Robin. Sometimes a song can just cause a scene to coalesce in my brain and I have to write it out. 
> 
> I love that this happens for me, and I know it happens that way for some of you as well. 
> 
> Each chapter in this story will be themed around a specific song by Joseph. 
> 
> It's taken me ages to sort out how to do this piece, since it's been bouncing around in my head for literally six months now. But I finally figured it out, and I'm finally ready to start sharing it with you. 
> 
> This piece is a departure for me, from the way I usually write. I've always been a pantser, since I started writing almost two years ago. But this piece means so much to me and has taken me so long to work out how to do it, that I've decided to write ahead. As of this chapter being posted, I have five chapters written, with an outline for fifteen...and that doesn't even come close to finishing it. My hope is to keep posting one a day until it's finished...but we all know life has a way of creating roadblocks, so I hope you'll bear with me if I fail to post on an exact schedule. 
> 
> Before we start...I also want to say an enormous thank you to LindyRen (@mclinds on Tumblr) who has allowed me to brainstorm with her, letting me ramble and mumble at all hours, and helping me with my direction when I get a bit stuck.  
> I also want to thank @lindmea for giving me inspiration and another brain to pick. 
> 
> And lastly...I want to thank all of you, every single reader, writer and member of this fandom. 
> 
> This last few months has been a struggle for me (and I know many of you) and I don't think I'd have gotten through it as smoothly if I hadn't had fics to read, comments left on fics I've written, or the sweet community we've created here and on Tumblr. I am SO incredibly thankful to all of you. 
> 
> I highly recommend listening to the music as you read, or even before and after. 
> 
> This chapter's song can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w7Gkznu0YVk)

_I forgave you for your mistakes_   
_Somehow I'm the one who paid_   
_Don't you know it's such a let down_   
_I made it easy for you_   
_She kept coming around_   
_In a revolving door_   
_Won't someone let me out now_   
_And make this go away_

As she stood in the nearly empty bedroom, open boxes strewn around her, the detritus of her marriage littering the room, Robin battled back tears of utter frustration. 

She knew she should have known better than to trust Matthew when he’d said he wanted to make it as clean a break as possible. Just as she should have known better when she went back to him in the aftermath of the first revelation about Sarah, two years ago. 

Since the day she’d walked out, two months ago, he’d swiveled between being angry and vengeful and pleading for her to come back. 

He’d never once apologized though. 

And she was certain Sarah was still in the picture. Even if he swore they’d ended things. Again. 

The earrings on his nightstand gave that well away.

She folded another throw, tucking it into a box with a sigh. She really should have known better than to trust that he’d allow her to come and pick up her belongings without a fuss.

When she’d arrived she’d found the house they’d shared in complete shambles. Dishes in the sink, caked and dirty, the remainder of the clothes she’d left behind the night she’d left heaped on the floor of their bedroom, tangled together with hangers, covering her small shoe collection. 

It was clear he’d deliberately wreaked havoc with the items he knew she was going to be taking with her, careful not to truly damage anything, but clearly keen to make it as laborious as possible for her to pack up and be gone.

The absolute twat. 

She heaved another sigh and taped the now full box closed, carrying it out to the hall with the others she’d loaded onto the trolley her friend, Ilsa, had loaned her. 

Ilsa had wanted to come along, to help and support her, but, since she hadn’t been sure what she’d be walking into she’d demurred. Feeling she was already putting the Herberts out enough. 

Besides, if she allowed Ilsa to come help, that meant Cormoran would surely want to come along, and that was something she definitely didn’t need Matthew finding out about. 

His outright hatred of her business partner and friend was ridiculous, even though she knew it wasn’t entirely unfounded. 

And that was yet another thing that had been haunting her during the last two months, and well before if she was being honest. Her feelings for Cormoran were…complicated. 

Since the night he’d left her standing on the stairs at her wedding, tears of relief and regret tracking through the makeup on her face, she’d been wrestling with what exactly her feelings for Cormoran were. 

Cormoran, his six foot three, fifteen stone frame was as opposite Matthew’s lanky runners build as it was possible to be. Likewise his perpetually messy curls and dark green eyes did not amount to a likeness that would grace movie screens. But the thought of him was always imbued with safety for her. 

Kindness. 

Wit. 

Absolute trust.

No, Cormoran was nothing like Matthew.

As she returned to folding her clothes and gathering her belongings onto the bed she’d shared with not just her husband, but unwittingly also Sarah bloody Shadlock, she could not help wishing she had the ability to just walk away from all of this. To just let Matthew have it all, all the money, all the shit, and let this all go away. 

She just wanted out. 

Away from the stink of betrayal, the lies, the feeling of failure, even though she hadn’t been the one to cheat, repeatedly, with the very person she knew her spouse couldn’t stand. 

She knew that realistically they were both to blame for the breakdown of their marriage. She’d grown and changed and become something Matthew hadn’t reckoned on when he’d enticed her to move up here to London two and a half years ago. He’d thought she would continue to be the scared fragile ornament he’d wanted. 

But then she’d been sent to Cormoran’s office and everything had changed. Her world opened up and long held but repressed dreams were suddenly within reach. Matthew had been understandably confused, at first. But had increasingly become resentful of the time she’d spent helping to grow the agency, not to mention the low pay. 

She shook her head… _But that still doesn’t excuse him cheating on me. I didn’t deserve that._

She was startled from her thoughts by the sound of her phone vibrating on the bedside table. Glancing over she saw Ilsa’s number and the silly picture she’d programmed into Robin’s phone a few nights ago. 

Cormoran had finally talked her into coming with him to the Herberts for dinner, and in the midst of eating truly delicious curry, Ilsa had offered to let Robin move into their spare bedroom until she could find a place of her own. Clearly Cormoran had mentioned the breakdown of her marriage beforehand, and struggling against her initial reaction to decline, so as not to burden them with her presence, she’d accepted. 

She and Ilsa had become fast friends by the end of the evening, building on what they’d already known about each other and buoyed by Ilsa’s absolute certainty that Matthew was, “…a complete twat waffle with a weak chin.” 

They’d gotten quite tipsy, the general mood being mildly celebratory, and Ilsa had snatched Robin’s phone from her hand when she’d been about to answer yet another of Matthew’s increasingly pleading texts. Ilsa had unapologetically read the string of texts and then, muttering “Smarmy git,” under her breath, had replied to the latest entreaty with a terse, “Stop texting me. All communication moving forward should be directed through my attorney,” followed by a name and phone number Robin hadn’t recognized. She’d then programmed her own number and taken a silly picture of herself for the contact card and then handed Robin her phone back followed by a rather sloppy kiss on the cheek and a wink. 

“’At’s your divorce lawyer by the way. Corn said you might need one and she works with my firm. We’ll go see her tomorrow. ‘Kay?”

Robin had immediately nodded and then, mumbling that she was going to put her phone on it’s charger, she’d left the room, tears welling at the unexpected and unlooked for kindness of the Herberts. 

And Cormoran.

Now, standing in what had once been her bedroom, she picked up the buzzing phone, hitting the answer button and tucking it between her ear and shoulder as she continued to fold her clothes into the box in front of her. “Hey Ils.”

“How’s it going? Need any help?”

“It’s going I guess. The place was a complete mess when I got here.”

“How so?” She could almost picture Ilsa’s head tilting and eyes narrowing as her lawyer ears perked up.

“Dirty dishes in the sink, the one’s I’m supposed to be taking with me, naturally. My clothes and shoes and stuff piled on the floor in heaps. Pillows and blankets stripped and scattered to hell and back. Knick knacks knocked over and moved around. That kind of thing.”

“Is anything damaged? And did you take pictures?” Ilsa’s voice took on a clear lawyer tone. All business. No bullshit. 

“I took pictures. Trina told me to document everything,” Robin’s new divorce lawyer and Ilsa’s coworker had explained that this might happen. “And nothing’s so damaged it can’t be repaired by a washing machine or dishwasher. It’s mostly just folding things that I know were already folded and hunting down things he’d moved from where they’d been just for the sake of being contrary.”

Ilsa sighed, “Arsehole...I know you’re documenting. And I know it’s tedious. But clearly he’s going to be the twat waffle we all knew he was and you need to be protected.”

“I know,” Robin muttered.

“Want help? I don’t mind. And I’m just going mad sitting here. Nicky is on rotations and I have nothing to do.” Ilsa whinged playfully.

“I know that’s not true, and I really appreciate it. But I’m almost finished. I just finished with the last bit of my things in the bedroom,” she said as she ran the tape gun over the box flaps. “And that just leaves the dishes in the dishwasher to be packed. Then I’ll load everything on the trolley and into the Rover and be on my way.”

“That trolley has been a godsend so many times. The sheer volume of bankers boxes and case files it’s hauled from office to courts. Many a back it’s saved.”

“It’s definitely a godsend this time as well. It’ll save my back loads.” Robin chuckled as she laid the tape on top of the box and dusted her hands. 

“I expect I should be back to yours around half four? Want me to pick anything up on the way?” she asked.

“Ours,” Ilsa corrected. “And, no, don’t worry about picking anything up. Nick’s working an overnight and I don’t feel like cooking. We’ll just unload the Rover and skip over to the pub, if that sounds alright?”

“It does. God yes…It really does.”

“Good. Get it done and I’ll see you in a bit.” And with a loud kissy noise Ilsa was gone. 

Robin tucked her phone in the pocket of her leggings, hefted the box and set about about finishing the removal of her presence from the house that had never really been a home.


	2. Shivers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many hugs of appreciation to @lindmea for her gracious beta read and grammar corrections on this chapter. I raise a mug of creosote tea to you! ☕️ 
> 
> As well, hugs and an appreciation 🎂 to my dear @lindyren for being my first read through and supporting me when I text her about how terribly hard dialogue is sometimes. So so grateful for you. ❤️ 
> 
> This chapter is based on the song Shivers. You can find it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2JR9dr5zhM)

_Did I make it up?_   
_Everything I trusted?_   
_'Cause now it's burning from the edges_   
_Here the fire comes_   
_Making ash and dust out of_   
_Everything that made sense_

“Done!” Robin slammed the back door of the Land Rover closed and turned to take the handle of the trolley Ilsa was holding in place. 

“Now that’s got to feel good,” Ilsa slung an arm over her shoulders and squeezed. 

Robin thought for a moment about how light she’d felt as she’d locked the door to that house for the last time before bending down and sliding the key through the letterbox. The muffled sound of it pinging on the floor had made her truly smile for the first time that afternoon.

“It does,” she laughed. “It really does.”

“Good,” Ilsa nodded decisively. “Now, let's pull this…mess…into the mud room and decamp to the pub.”

“But…” Robin began. 

“No. There’s no rush. We’ll leave it in the mudroom and go have dinner and a drink or three and it’ll still be there when we come back.” Seeing the expression on Robin’s face, and correctly interpreting that she was about to argue, Ilsa took control of the trolley, pulling it ahead and calling back, with a laugh, over her shoulder, “Not everything has to be organized immediately Robs.”

Robin saw no other option than to capitulate. “OK. OK…But I’m only agreeing because I’m thirsty,” she called back. 

“Sure you are…” came the laughing response.

Ten minutes later they were snugged up in a booth at The Woodman with large glasses of wine and food on order. 

“Is there anything left at the house that you’ll need to go back for?” Ilsa was asking.

“No. I got everything. Thank goodness. Dropped the key through the letterbox and all, just as Trina suggested.”

“Good. Less fuss,” Ilsa nodded. “But you’re still preoccupied…”

Robin felt the tears welling immediately and sniffed, trying to hold them in. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just tell me how to help.”

“You have. God,” Robin wiped falling tears away impatiently. “You and Nick and Cormoran have helped more than I deserve.”

“Debatable…but do, please, go on.” A quick grin creased Ilsa’s lips at the slightly wet snort Robin gave.

“I’m serious,” Robin protested.

“I am too. Something’s weighing on you, and as your new best friend…”

“Best I’ve ever had,” Robin interrupted with a watery grin and slight sniffle.

“Too right. And as your best, best friend, it’s my responsibility to listen while you pour your heart out.” She laid a hand over Robin’s. “I know this isn’t easy. I know it’s scary as hell. But I’m here. Talk to me.”

“OK…” Robin took a deep breath, and a swig of her wine, “Well…How will I know who I can trust now?”

“Romantically?”

“In any way…I mean, obviously I’m a stellar judge of character, Ils. He cheated on me before we were married, and I knew it, and I still believed him when he said it was long over.” Robin felt her face tightening with anger, at herself, at Matthew…at everything. “And added to that…I let him define me. Why?” she asked, near tears again over her own foolishness. “ And how did he do it so easily?”

Ilsa took her hand, squeezing it sympathetically, “Easy. He took advantage. Maybe not purposefully. Not at first. But he absolutely took advantage of you.”

She knew Ilsa was referring to the aftermath of her attack. Ilsa had been with her when she’d explained it to her divorce lawyer. However, this was the first time Ilsa had ever alluded to it, much less brought it up. 

“He knew you were unsteady and what started out as him trying to be supportive, probably became convenient. What man is going to turn down a beautiful woman, cooking and cleaning for him, being on his arm at company functions? Robs, you were his accessory. You made him look good,” She squeezed Robin’s hand again. “And he did it by making you feel good about it. By telling you what a help it was to him, to have you with him at company ‘dos. By complimenting everything you cooked and did around the house.”

Robin was nodding agreement. “It seemed the normal thing to do, Ilsa. My mum did things like that for Dad all the time.”

“It is, Rob, it absolutely is. But not when there’s an imbalance of power. If he’d been building you up at the same time, talking you up to his coworkers at the events, supporting your ambitions the way you supported his, then it would have been exactly right. But he wasn’t. He didn’t. Did he?”

Trying to be fair, Robin thought back, but, “No. Never.” She shook her head. “Not once. God…In fact, almost from the start of my time with the agency he was less upset about the work and more upset about Cormoran and I being alone together a lot.”

“Of course he was…Any man who validated you was suddenly a threat. And how could Corm help but validate you?”

“Well, I don’t…”

“Yes, you do,” Ilsa talked over her, impatience edging her voice. “You _know_ you’re good. You know that he knows that you’re good. Even before we met you for the first time Corm wasn’t shy about your abilities. He’d said more than once that the agency was only where it is now because of you. Stop selling my friend short, Robin.” Ilsa slapped her hand on the table, her eyebrows drawn over her eyes. “My friend is brilliant. _You_ are brilliant and capable. Both as a person and an investigator.”

Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, Robin nodded and looked away, lifting her glass for a gulp and trying desperately to compose herself. 

Deep down she knew all of this to be true. She knew she was intelligent. She knew she’d bolstered the agency and helped make it as successful as it was now. She knew she was a valuable asset. And she knew Cormoran felt that way, he’d said so himself, a few weeks ago, at the racecourse. 

But she still heard Matthew, the night she’d left, mocking, _“Achievements? You mean his achievements.”_

She sat back, waiting, as their food arrived at their table, until the server had left. “So then, I guess I need to work on trusting myself?”

“Bang on.” Ilsa pointed her knife at her. “You know you’re capable. And now you don’t have anything holding you back. No one to justify anything to. No one telling you you aren’t really achieving anything meaningful. No one to get whingy when you don’t come home when he wants you to.” Ilsa paused, “Well…I might. But only because I enjoy your company.” She pulled a silly face, eliciting a soft giggle from Robin, “But then, I’m also used to doctors hours and yours aren’t much different.”

Robin took a bite of her sole and considered. Weighing her options. 

“I think I need some time, Ilsa,” Robin said quietly a few moments later.

Ilsa nodded immediately, “Take it. Go back home. Go on holiday. You know we’re not going to throw your stuff out into the street and the spare room is yours until you find something else that’s suitable.” She met Robin’s eyes, holding them as she added, “And by suitable I mean something that Nick, Corm and I all agree is suitable,” she warned, raising a hand to forestall Robin’s protest. “We’re your friends Robin. It’s time to get used to being cared about. Your safety is paramount to all of us. No arguments.”

“But, I can’t just…go on holiday. Can I?” It didn’t feel fair. “ What about the agency?”

“Did you forget that you were held at gunpoint just over a week ago? I’m sure Cormoran isn’t going to quibble over you taking some time to assess your mental health. Ask him. I’ve got ten quid he agrees immediately.” She lifted her wine glass, taking a healthy swig before asking, “If you did, take time off I mean, what would you do? Where would you go?”

Robin chewed a bite of her fish, considering, “I’d probably go back to Masham for a couple days, drop off some stuff I won’t need until I have a place of my own, so yours isn’t crowded.”

Ilsa swallowed, “’Told you I don’t care about that.”

“I know…but still. There’s stuff I won’t need until I have a place of my own and I’d feel better not crowding you and Nick out.”

“Not possible, but whatever. So...Masham first makes sense. Then what?”

“Maybe then I’d just wander about a bit. Go see some places I’ve wanted to see, but that weren’t posh enough for Matthew.”

“Twat,” Ilsa mumbled. “But seriously. It’s not going to hurt. And Corm won’t make a fuss. You need time Robs. You need time to sort out who you are. Who Robin alone is. And the best part is…You can always come back anytime you want to.” She once again laid a hand over Robin’s. “No one is going to tell you not to go. No one but you.”

“Yeah,” Robin sat back and considered for a moment. Time sounded really nice right now. Time alone sounded even better. No real responsibilities. No deadlines. No Matthew nagging at her to hurry back home. No one to answer to but herself. 

It was scary to think about.

But, she realized, it was a good scary.

She knew she needed to talk with her parents, explain what had happened with Matthew and hopefully get some advice on how to move forward. And she also knew they’d want her to come home to Masham for good and she’d disappoint them by not doing so, but she didn’t doubt they’d support her. Even if they couldn’t quite understand her decisions. 

She knew from past experience that Masham was a good place to start rebuilding her life. After all, it had been burnt to ashes once before, and this was nothing compared to _that_ conflagration. 

“I have no idea what I’d do right now without you Ilsa. Honestly.”

“Figure it out. You’d figure it out.” Ilsa grinned widely. “But we’ll just be glad you don’t have to this time.”

***

Later that evening, lying in her borrowed bed, she texted Cormoran.

_Need to take some time off. Hope that’s OK. I need to take some of my stuff back home and talk with my family about this situation. Can we work it out? Rx_

He responded moments later,

_Absolutely. Whatever you need. I’m glad to hear it. I’ll shuffle some things to Sam and Andy and we’ll be fine. Start tomorrow. Just be safe. And let me know if you need anything. C_

She pulled up Ilsa’s contact info:

_Looks like I owe you ten quid_ . _Rx_

Moments later her phone beeped with a reply,

_I’ll put it on your account. ;)_


	3. Room For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the song this chapter is based on [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFMQyUoxhfs).

_Oh this lonely aching feeling_   
_Should never belong to you_   
_Never belong to you_

_Meanwhile on the other side of town..._

He cradled his phone in his palm, waiting, hoping, for another text. Anything that would give him a better idea of where Robin’s head was. 

It was understandable that she’d want to take some time off. In fact, between leaving Matthew, her panic attack on the roadside, and Raphael Chiswell holding her at gunpoint, he should have been _insisting_ that she take time off. But he was trying to show her that he trusted her to make the right decisions concerning her mental health. She’d promised him she’d address the panic attacks, and it looked like maybe this was her first step. 

He couldn’t deny, not even to himself, that he’d miss her while she was away. But that was nothing new. It seemed like he’d spent the entire last year missing her, even when she was right in front of him. It was only when he took the Chiswell case that their relationship had begun to ease back into it’s familiar contours and patterns. 

Now she was done with Matthew. 

And taking time off. 

_You should be pleased, idiot._

But he wasn’t. 

He fell asleep listening for the buzz of an incoming text that never came. 

***

“I don’t understand why you can’t tell me how she’s doing, Ilsa. She’s my friend too.”

“She’s only been away for a week. _She_ doesn’t even know how she’s doing. ” Ilsa rolled her eyes at him as she held her hand out for the container of rice he was holding. “You should be pleased she’s taking time away. I know you wanted her to.”

“I did. I do,” he qualified. “I’m just worried. That’s all. She’s never gone this long without checking in.”

“Yes, well...she’s never been held at gunpoint less than a week after leaving her husband before either. She’s rattled and struggling to understand how to move forward. She needs space.” She looked at him intently, determination glinting in her eyes behind their delicate glasses. “I promised her we’d give it to her and I’m holding you to it.”

“I didn’t promise,” he muttered. 

“Corm…” Ilsa began, subsiding when Nick raised a hand to shush her. 

“Oggy, be reasonable. You know she’s safe. And _she_ knows that if she needs anything at all she can call any of the three of us and we’ll drop everything to help.”

Cormoran scowled as he scooped up his curry, but kept his thoughts to himself. 

Thoughts about how hard it had been to prevent himself from texting her, just to check in. Ilsa had made it clear that he wasn’t to do so, fearing that any communication from him would likely lead to Robin asking how the agency was getting along, and any talk of the agency would bring her back faster than Usain Bolt on a running track.

Thoughts of how desperately he wanted to go to her. To retrace the four hour drive that he had made a little over a year ago, once more. Exhausted, though much less battered this time. He knew he'd have the courage to actually say the words, “Come with me,” and mean them now. 

He knew this was what she needed. 

He did. 

And he hoped, desperately, that she was resting and relaxing and giving herself the opportunity to heal. 

He tried not to think about how lonely she might be. He knew she was with her family, and that they’d take good care of her. 

But he couldn’t stop hoping that she was missing him as much as he missed her, though it made him feel terribly guilty. 

And he’d long ago realized that he missed her more than he missed his missing leg. 

***

Two weeks into Robin’s leave of absence, Cormoran, Andy and Sam were crowded around her desk, watching events unfold on the CCTV footage Sam had sweet-talked one of the female officers in Records at the Met into sharing. 

“See...this here’s our guy,” Sam was saying, as they watched a figure in a black hoodie walk briskly down the street the camera was recording, before stopping at a black BMW Z4 and jimmying the door.

The scene was familiar, bringing back the memory of how quickly Robin had realized that the two figures in the Landry CCTV feeds hadn’t been the same person. 

He stifled a mirthless laugh because at this point everything reminded him of her. 

He’d caught himself sitting in her chair most days, just to feel closer to her. 

His hand on her mouse, fingers on her keyboard, the closest he could get to touching her. 

How many times had he replayed the way her arms had wrapped so tightly around his waist and her face had rested against his chest on the houseboat after he’d tugged her to him in the aftermath of her brush with Raff Chiswell?

Nearly as often as he’d thought about the way her hair had smelled of the roses pinned in it as he’d held her on the steps outside her wedding. 

More than once since she’d left he’d wished he’d asked her to come away with him that night. Everything else be damned. 

If he’d asked her to come away with him then, maybe they wouldn’t be apart now. 

His phone signaled, pulling him back to the present. He snatched it from where it lay next to the mouse on Robin’s desk. His breath catching with mingled hope and fear.

Hope that it was her. 

Fear that it was her. 

He suppressed a growl when he saw it was just a group text from Ilsa and Lucy, confirming their plans to get together at Lucy’s two days hence. 

Cormoran didn’t want to go. 

He didn’t want to do much of anything at the moment. 

Especially if it didn’t involve Robin.

But he slid the text open and responded affirmatively, knowing that if he didn’t, he’d not only have Ilsa hounding him, but Lucy as well. 

“Good work, Barclay,” he patted Sam on the back. “I’ll show this to the client and we’ll find out what he wants our next steps to be.” He rose and walked to the door, patting his coat for his pack of cigarettes. “I’m off on the Paulson surveillance. Make sure you lock up, will you?”

He didn’t wait for their answers, just as he didn’t notice the look that passed between the other two men. 

The past few weeks had made it clear that Robin was the linchpin of their agency, not because of her skill, though that was prodigious, but because it was obvious that Strike was not himself without her. 

And that was something neither of them had ever thought to see. 

***

The weekend at Lucy’s had passed as slowly as anticipated. He’d enjoyed playing Minecraft with Jack, but those had been the only real enjoyable moments he’d had. 

Ilsa was still keeping mum about Robin’s whereabouts, though she had admitted that she’d left Masham the week before and was larking about the countryside. 

He wasn’t comforted by the thought of Robin, alone, “larking about the countryside.” Anything could happen to her. And he wasn’t there to help. 

And he knew he was being unreasonable. Robin was smart and quick and nearly more observant than he was. But he couldn’t stop himself from worrying. 

If he only knew when she was planning to come back. 

He felt sure he could calm his anxiety if she’d just say when she was coming back. 

Or, he thought as he glared across the room at Ilsa chattering with Lucy about her garden, maybe she _had_ said and Ilsa was holding out on him. 

Catching sight of Nick and Greg, standing together on the patio, admiring the new grill Greg had obviously invited them all over to show off, he handed his game controller off to Greg Jr. and made for the patio. 

He joined the conversation, oohing and ahhing where he thought appropriate. _A smoker as well? Well now, wasn’t that just the dogs fucking bollocks?_ He barely stifled an eye roll. 

And he waited. 

And while he waited, he plotted. 

As soon as Greg headed back into the house to retrieve the marinating steaks, he pounced.

“Ilsa knows, doesn’t she?”

Nick was nonplussed. “Knows what Oggy?”

“Cut the bullshit Nick...I know Ilsa knows. Which means you know. Which means you’re holding out on me.” He narrowed his eyes menacingly.

Nick was unfazed. “I’m assuming you mean where Robin is and when she might be planning to come back?”

“Yes,” Cormoran growled through gritted teeth as he took a drag from the cigarette he didn’t recall lighting.

Nick grinned at him, “See this is what surprises me, you know Ilsa well enough to know that she knows when Robin’s due back, but you _don’t_ know her well enough to realize that she’d know you’d eventually try to get it out of me, therefore,” he turned to head back into the house, patting Cormoran’s arm companionably as he passed, “She refused to tell me as well. And, not being as...invested? Is that the right word?” He waved a hand negligibly through the air, “ Yeah, we’ll go with that. Not being as invested as you are, I’m not on tenterhooks waiting.”

Cormoran met Nick’s eyes, which were filled with kindness and an understanding Cormoran had forgotten Nick might have, “I know how you feel. I do. But I also know that Robin needed this time. And you know it as well as I do. She’ll be back.” He squeezed his friend’s shoulder in support. “Patience, Oggy. Patience.”

And as Cormoran watched Nick amble into the house, he chugged the last of his beer, and tried to calm the frustration raging through him. 

Nick might be close to understanding...But if he’d ever felt the agony Cormoran was currently feeling, he was a stronger man that Cormoran had ever given him credit for. 

***

The third and fourth weeks without Robin passed much the same as the first two.

Slowly.

Agonizingly.

Every moment filled with the lack of her presence. He’d given up working at his own desk, content to sit at hers. 

He’d avoided curry night the last week by pleading work...and instead sat at her desk, swilling whisky, and staring at his phone, trying to will it to receive a text from her. 

Her social media was silent, which wasn’t unusual, and shouldn’t have been as troubling as he felt it was, considering her current predicament with Matthew. He was sure she wouldn’t want him to know she wasn’t in London. 

He’d given up trying to get any information out of Ilsa, and had caught himself multiple times texting Robin, fingers typing things like, “Are you OK?” or “Doing alright?” before deleting them with a muttered curse. 

He sighed and poured another three fingers from the rapidly dwindling bottle he’d carried down from his flat. 

Surely to God she’d come back soon. 

It had been almost a month. 

It was the longest she’d ever gone without communicating with him. 

Even after he’d fired her...Though to be fair she hadn’t been the one to initiate communication that time. 

But, even so, it had never been this long. 

Didn’t she realize he’d be worried?

He knocked the whisky back in one gulp and rose to visit the loo. 

As he reached the door he heard his phone buzz against the wood of her desk. 

He reached it in less than a second. 

_Hey Cormoran. I just got back into town a little while ago. Wondered if you might fancy a drink and a catch up? Rx_

Heart pounding in his chest. Relief mingling with anticipation and curiosity he replied:

_Tottenham in 30? First rounds on me. C_

Less than a minute later: 

👍

Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to @LulaIsAKItten, who gave us the image of Cormoran playing Minecraft in her brilliant First Kiss fic, [You can practice on me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14848448). I loved it, and I hope you don't mind that I borrowed it. It became a bit of a headcanon for me after reading it.


	4. Honest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song this chapter is based on is one of my favorite songs...EVER. It's really hard for me to choose favorite songs...But there's something about this one that speaks to how I feel almost constantly. 
> 
> The lyric in the epigraph is exactly what life feels like for me sometimes. 
> 
> This song wasn't supposed to be the song for this chapter, but Robin changed it. And I couldn't be upset about it. 
> 
> You can find Honest [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rfyvt8MA-Lw).
> 
> But my favorite version is [this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4eGVGwuNukU)

_There's always two thoughts  
One after the other  
I'm alone  
No you're not_

The dim light in the pub glinted bronze on Robin’s up-swept hair as he watched her push through the door. Her ponytail bobbed with every step she took closer to him. He stood up, pulling her chair out as she approached, awkwardly unsure of whether to offer a hug, or a handshake, or just...nothing. 

He couldn’t help noticing that her blue grey eyes were bright and sparkling, making him realize just how dull they’d gone in the last few days before she’d asked for time off. 

Guilt chewed at his stomach. He should have suggested she take leave immediately following that night on the houseboat. Maybe if he’d suggested it then she wouldn’t have stayed away so long, or maybe she’d have communicated with him whilst she’d been gone. 

She slowed as she reached the table he’d commandeered. Her head tilted as she regarded him curiously, a grin creasing her face as her eyes swept him in a once over from his head to toes. “You look like you’ve lost nearly a stone!” she exclaimed before relieving the awkwardness he felt and tiptoeing up to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, accompanied by a brief squeeze of her arms around his shoulders. “It’s so good to see you!”

He barely managed to return the kiss, and a “Yeah! Same,” before she was sliding into the chair he’d pulled out for her. Her familiar floral scent floated around him, making him sigh inwardly with comfort and something he was afraid was bliss. 

She was here. 

Glowing and seemingly happy. 

“Been sticking to my diet,” he answered, patting his stomach comically. ”And the walking helps. Been trying to limit my intake of this stuff as well.” He lifted his pint glass in a joking toast, clinking it against the large wine glass she lifted with a laugh, before taking a hearty glug. 

“Ahhh. So you finally opened the vegetarian bacon then?” she asked, her tone full of mirth and teasing.

“I think we both know I gave that stuff up as a bad job.” He waved a hand through the air, dismissing the travesty of vegetarian bacon with a chuckle. “Moderation is, apparently, the thing.” He paused, absolutely sure he couldn’t tell her that, since she’d left, he’d been on a steady diet of whisky and angst and not much more. 

He sat, taking in her face, the smile beaming across the table at him. “How are you?” The words left his mouth softly, and unbidden. 

She was quiet for a moment, “I’m...better.” She took a sip of her wine and winced before saying, “I’m sorry I left so suddenly. I just...”

“Robin, honestly...don’t worry about it,” he interrupted.

“No, really. I should have given more notice, but…”

“Ellacott…stop.” She left off at the sternness of his tone. “We’ve discussed this, remember? You promised to address your mental health, and you have.” He gave her a reassuring smile, ”There’s no need for an apology. Barclay took over the Hunt job and did fine. But we’ll certainly be glad to have you back.” It was his turn to wince, “Your organizational skills were sorely missed. And really, if any one owes an apology, it’s us. Your desk is fairly covered with files and receipts.”

Robin chuckled. “I expected as much. So no apology needed.” She grinned at him, her heart full of joy at his familiar face. “That’s job security.”

“As if I’d ever fire you…” He lifted an eyebrow with a smirk. “Again.”

She chuckled, as he’d intended, and said, “Oh good! That’s that worry gone.” She mimed wiping sweat from her brow with mock relief, making him laugh. “I expect you won’t mind if I come in tomorrow to get a bit of a start, then?”

“On a Saturday? You don’t want to settle in at Nick and Ilsa’s first?”

She shrugged, “I’m about as settled there as I’m going to be, actually. I came back tonight to find Ilsa had already unpacked and washed the clothes I’d left behind, then hung them or put them away in the dresser.” She grinned at Cormoran’s chuckle. 

“She’s keen, our Ilsa.” 

“Too true,” she laughed. “But I appreciated it and everything else that I really needed I had with me, so it’s already been unpacked and dealt with. Besides, I’m ready to get back to work. I missed it.”

“Well, you were definitely missed as well. I expect Hutchins will be delighted to see you , he’s asked after you a couple times.”

“Aww.”

“Mmmm.” He sipped from his pint again, licking away the foam that clung to his lip before adding, “And Barclay is heading up to Chelmsford tomorrow to gather some records from a client for a probate case he’s handling, but he’ll be back in the office on Monday.”

Robin smiled, glad to have been welcomed back so easily. Ilsa had been right, once again. She’d been worried for nothing. 

“Hungry?” Cormoran asked.

“Famished.”

“Good! Want to order here or would you prefer something else?”

“You know…” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I've really been missing the kebab from the cart ‘round the block,” she replied, though not quite truthfully. 

What she’d really missed was the companion who usually ate them with her. 

“Well, drink up and we’ll head out.” He nodded his head at her half empty glass. “And you can tell me about your travels. Ilsa refused to tell me anything.”

“I’m so sorry. I asked her not to let anyone know where I was.” She met his eyes, sincerity shining brightly, “Not even my parents knew where I was. Truly, Cormoran.” 

“Yeah. She was determined to let you have the time you needed, uninterrupted,” he replied.

“If it makes you feel any better, she refused to tell me anything more about what was happening here other than that you, and the agency, were doing fine,” her voice was filled with sympathy. 

It had been difficult to get even that much out of Ilsa. She’d spent multiple nights, laying in bed, tempted to ring him, but had held off because She hadn’t been sure how to explain where she was, and why, to him. 

“She said I wasn’t allowed to reach out to you. ‘On pain of death’,” he joked. “So, I’m quite curious to hear about your trip.” He finished off his pint and chuckled as she raised her wine glass to take a few gulps and catch up, leaving only a few drops in the bottom of the glass. 

“Well...there’s not much to it really.” She wasn’t sure why she was hesitating, but he seemed to sense it. . 

“How about this...I’ll pop to the loo and meet you back here and you can tell me everything while we head 'round to the kebab cart? Need a fag anyway,” he shrugged.

She agreed and as he headed off to the restrooms she tried to decide where best to start. 

With Masham? Where she’d battled panic attacks, as she’d returned to the room that had become her cage at the age of 19.

Or with her decision to leave Masham two days after arriving and driving through the day to arrive in Cornwall, where she’d stayed the rest of the month she’d been gone?

The discussions with her parents had gone well, with Linda being appalled at Matthew’s second betrayal and fully supportive of her leaving him and initiating the divorce. Michael, uncharacteristically, had wanted to storm down to London and “take a piece out of the boy’s hide” for hurting her so despicably. 

Twice over. 

They’d been less enthusiastic about her decision to stay in London. But Stephen had stepped in and reminded them that Robin had wanted to pursue this line of work since childhood. He’d asserted that it wouldn’t be fair to her to ask her to give it up anymore than it would be fair to ask him to give up his career. It made her happy, and that mattered most. Though he’d privately talked with her about her emotional state, unintentionally reminding Robin of Cormoran the day at the racecourse. Stephen hadn’t known about the panic attacks, at least not that he’d said, but she’d gotten the feeling he’d had some idea what she’d been dealing with, and he’d wanted her assurance that she was taking care of herself. 

She’d given it readily. 

And one day later she’d been on the road, driving aimlessly when she’d taken a call from Trina, who’d informed her that notice of the divorce had been delivered to Matthew just that morning and that Matthew had seven days to return his Acknowledgement of Service. She’d then explained that this would be where they found out if he’d planned to contest the divorce or not.

They were both fairly certain he would, based on finances alone, but they didn’t know what else he might have up his sleeve. Robin had a few guesses though. And those guesses had added a firestorm of anxiety to the meteor shower already happening in her stomach.

Trina had given her assurances that she’d call as soon as they received the Acknowledgement and that they’d go forward from there. And then had rung off with exhortations to try to relax and not worry needlessly. 

She’d pulled off at a service station to top up her petrol and pick up some snacks for the road as she’d completed the call, and while standing in line to pay for her items, trying to take Trina’s advice, and failing miserably, she’d noticed a travel brochure for Cornwall. 

At the time it had seemed like a sign.

She’d reached Truro late that evening and checked into the Tredara Bed and Breakfast where she had immediately fallen into bed, sleeping almost seventeen hours before waking completely disoriented. 

She’d spent the following week exploring Cornwall. St. Mawes had only been a thirty minute drive from Truro and she’d made it often that week, walking on the cliffs, eating at the local pubs and restaurants, most of which were attached to hotels. 

After the first week in Cornwall she’d finally found the courage to let Ilsa know where she was. She’d expected Ilsa to be shocked, and was, therefore utterly gobsmacked when her friend had simply said, “Yes...I thought you might be,” before proceeding to offer to virtually introduce her to her own family. 

Despite Robin’s protestation that she couldn’t impose, she’d been texted mere hours later by Ilsa’s mother, who had introduced herself as Cecily Bray, with an invitation to dine with her at 7:00 the following evening. Knowing she’d be prodded by Ilsa if she didn’t, she’d plucked up her bravery and done so, discovering that Ilsa had filled her mother in on Robin’s situation. 

It had become apparent very quickly where Ilsa got her kindness and empathy, as well as her “take charge” personality. Robin had been won over almost immediately by Cecily’s humor and quick wittedness, and had left that evening with a standing invitation to call in at any time. 

As a result, she’d changed hotels the next day, staying in St. Mawes proper at the Hotel Tresanton. 

Over the three weeks she’d spent in Cornwall, Robin had availed herself of Cecily’s company and wisdom regularly. They’d spent many an afternoon chatting over tea, or walking the streets of St. Mawes. At one point Cecily had even pointed out a couple from a distance, who, Robin immediately realized must be Cormoran’s Uncle Ted and Aunt Joan, so uncanny had the gentleman’s resemblance to Cormoran been. 

She’d found pieces of herself walking those beaches and streets, chatting in Cecily’s kitchen and sitting room, eating fish and chips at The Victory and Cornish pasties while ambling through the markets, picking up trinkets for Ilsa and her friend Vanessa, and herself. 

She’d adored every moment she’d spent in Cornwall. 

She’d learned to be comfortable in her own company. 

To trust herself and her ambitions. 

She understood how to be alone now, without being lonely. And she knew she didn’t always have to be alone, that it was OK to call on a friend when she needed to. 

She’d especially loved being free to sleep and wake naturally and discovered that walking on a beach first thing in the morning was a lovely way to awaken. 

But she’d also missed her life in London. 

Her work. 

Her few friends. 

And Cormoran. 

The missing of him had been acute, as she’d walked streets and beaches she’d known he’d must have played on and run along as a child. Worsening with ever glimpse she caught of his uncle as she roamed St. Mawes.

And she’d wondered how she’d explain where she’d been all this time.

She gave a slight start as Cormoran cleared his throat next to her, having returned unnoticed. “You ready?” he asked, gesturing toward the exit.

“Oh, sure.”

She slipped her arms into her coat, as he held it for her and followed him out the door and onto Charing Cross, smiling as she watched the bottom of his familiar grey greatcoat swirling around his legs and a wreath of smoke erupting as he lit his cigarette and tilted his head as though to say, “Shall we?”


	5. White Flag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter wasn't in the timeline...but the last chapter seemed to demand this one, so I had to do some rearranging and figure it out. 
> 
> The song didn't become clear to me until the end of the chapter...Initially I'd thought that Robin would be the one blasting this song the way other women blast Fight Song by Rachel Platten when their going through shit (Disclaimer: It's a great song...I enjoy it. This one is better. Just saying.)
> 
> But Cormoran was like...no no...Allow me. And I let him. 
> 
> So here is the lyric video for this chapter. [White Flag](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=el1QWfnYy_c)
> 
> I'm also going to give you my favorite live performance of it, [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEoLYRIYECA)

_I'll be an army, no you're  
Not gonna stop me gettin' through, ooh  
I'll sing a marching song and  
Stomp through the halls louder than you, ooh_

“I drove straight from Octavia Street to my parents house when I left,” she began as they started down the pavement. “My plan had been to stay with them for a bit, you see. At least until the divorce petitions had been filed.”

“Makes sense,” he said.

“But I couldn’t,” she paused, and took a deep breath, before rushing on, “As soon as I was back in my bedroom, a panic attack hit me.”

“Damn.”

“Exactly.” It helped that he understood. “And I realized that I couldn’t stay. Not feeling the way I felt. It was too similar…” she trailed off.

“I’m sorry Robin.”

“Not your fault. I managed to make it two days before I had to leave.”

“Were your parents…” he began.

“Oh they were supportive, as usual.” She grinned, remembering, “Dad threatened to take a chunk out of Matt’s hide and Mum was already plotting ways they could avoid him if he dared to show his face back in Masham any time soon, plus, who in the village gossip tree she was going to call first so that the word got around quickly about what a maggot that Matt Cunliffe turned out to be,” she laughed. 

“I knew I liked your mum,” he chuckled, as he exhaled the last of the smoke from his cigarette and gestured her around the corner they’d paused on. The wind immediately battered at them, blowing her hair every which way, swirling it around her head.

“She’s a rare one. That’s for sure.” She brushed her hair from her face and went on, “When I left Masham though, I had no idea where I was going. I”d had some vague idea of driving along the coast, because Matt never wanted to vacation here in England. The only beaches he wanted to be on were tropical,” she made a face, indicating her ambivalence. “So I headed toward the coast, but then Trina called to tell me that Matt had been served with our petition for divorce, and everything just stopped. I didn’t know what to do really. And it felt like I should be doing  _ something,  _ you know?” she asked. 

“I’m sure that’s normal,” he nodded reassuringly.

“I don’t really know, but, she said I wasn’t needed in London for anything, that we could handle everything over the phone and to try not to worry.”

“When has that  _ ever _ stopped anyone from worrying?” he objected. 

“Right?! I hate when people say that,” she agreed. “But I suppose she was right, really,” she shrugged and continued, “So, anyway, I pulled off the motorway to get petrol and some snacks…”

“Wait a minute,” he stopped in his tracks. “You’re trying to tell me that Robin Ellacott, Queen of the Road Trip Snacks, went on a road trip, without snacks?” He paused for emphasis wearing a comical expression of disbelief. “Nope...I don’t believe it. Lies! You’ll never convince me.” He teased. 

“Well I was alone! No road trip companion squirming and moaning about hunger pangs,” she cheeked.

“Ouch! That hurts.”

“Well, if the shoe fits…”

“And again, ouch...”

She snickered and playfully backhanded his arm. “Stop it.”

“Oh I’m  _ so _ sorry, do, please, continue. You stopped off for snacks…” He sketched a mocking bow.

Giggling, she resumed, “Yes. And while I was standing in the queue to pay I glanced over and saw a stand of travel brochures,” she paused, all playfulness gone, licked her lips. “One of them was for Cornwall.”

He felt as though she’d just punched him in the gut. 

_ She’s been in Cornwall all this time?  _ He thought. “ _ In Cornwall?” _

They’d reached the kebab cart, just as she’d dropped that bomb and he stood there, dumbstruck. He heard her voice again, as though from a distance, ordering their food, “Two please,” and shook his head, reaching out to cover the hand that had pulled out her purse to pay. 

“No. Absolutely not. My treat,” he said, before turning away from her, pulling out his wallet and paying the vendor, while desperately trying to assemble his thoughts into something coherent. 

“So, Cornwall huh?” he asked, struggling for composure, somehow managing to meet her eyes again as he handed her the container holding her food.

“I know. Which is why I didn’t want Ilsa to tell you where I was. I didn’t want it to seem weird. It just…” she paused, looked away, tucked her hair behind her ear in a gesture so familiar it hurt. She was clearly out of sorts and uncomfortable revealing this information to him. 

“Well, at that moment, in the petrol station, it seemed like a sign, really. And I didn’t have any real plans, so I figured it was as good a place as any. And I know it’s weird but,” her babbling trailed off, “It seemed like a sign, and it seemed like a safe place.”

“It’s a great place,” he declared. “The best. Well...after London.” 

He loved Cornwall. Next to London it was the place he felt most at home. And thinking of her, roaming the streets, standing on his beaches, her hair whipping in those winds, her sitting in The Victory, having a pint, and all without him, it was...

“...stayed in Truro at first, at a little bed and breakfast,” she was saying, drawing him back from his musings, “And it was lovely, but a week into my stay I finally told Ilsa where I was, after she badgered me,” he noted that somewhere in his mind. Filing it away for use later. 

“And within hours I got a text from Cecily.”

He couldn’t help it, “Wait- You met Cecily?!”

“Ilsa  _ insisted _ and she’s just lovely.”

“She is.” He agreed, she was. But, “Did you meet Ted and Joan?” 

He had to know.

If she’d met Cecily, then surely Cecily had introduced her to her two best friends. 

“Oh. No.” Her voice was soft, almost wistful as she shook her head, once again holding her hair in one fist to keep it from blowing back into her face as they walked. 

“Cecily pointed them out to me once when we were out for a stroll. They were going into The Victory and she offered to introduce me, but...well,” she hesitated. “It didn’t really feel appropriate.”

“They’d have loved to meet you. Goodness knows they’ve heard enough about you from Ilsa and Lucy.”

“But not you?”

“And me,” he allowed, quietly. 

“You’re not mad are you?” She burst out, stopping suddenly and looking up at him, her face a mask of concern and consternation.

“What?” He nearly shouted, though he regretted his outburst immediately as he caught her flinch. 

“Robin, no. Not that it matters. You understand.” He turned to face her fully, there in the middle of the pavement, forcing other pedestrians to veer around them. 

“Look at me.” He waited until she met his eyes. 

“It doesn’t matter what  _ I _ think of where you went on your holiday. It was  _ your _ holiday.”

“But, I know it must seem odd.”

“Initially, yes.,” he allowed. “It definitely feels weird to think of you in my hometown. But...Did you have a drink at The Victory?” 

“I did. I went midday so I wouldn’t run into your uncle.”

“It wouldn’t have mattered. He’d have taken to you right away. Loves a pretty girl, does Ted.” 

He knew both Ted and Joan had been looking forward to meeting her when they came up this year for Christmas, but he didn’t mention it, realizing he felt as awkward about knowing this, as she probably felt telling him where she’d been. 

It was odd to realize that she’d become such an important fixture in his life that he’d been planning to introduce her to his family. The only woman, aside from Ilsa, they’d ever met, that he’d been around for any length of time had been Charlotte and while they’d tolerated her, they’d been no more happy about their relationship than Ilsa had been. 

They already felt differently about Robin. 

_ We aren’t in a relationship though _ .  _ It’s different _ , he reminded himself. Though he knew it didn’t matter. 

He knew she was what he wanted. 

Her determination and kindness. 

Her steadfastness and stubbornness. 

Her quiet acceptance of him and his disability.

He’d be a fool to  _ not  _ be in love with her. 

And he’d been busy realizing it whilst she’d been in his hometown. 

A sign, indeed.

“Cormoran?”

Once again he shook himself out of his thoughts. 

Now was  _ not _ the time for fantasizing. 

“The Victory is Ted and Joan’s local. Lucy and I grew up having dinner there pretty much every other evening. I have great memories of watching matches there with Ted. It’s one of my favorite places.” He smiled, hoping to set her at ease. “Feels like home the minute I walk in.”

Judging by the way she grinned at him, he’d managed it. “I loved their strawberry trifle.”

“So good,” he passionately agreed.

“Really though, I spent most of my time on the beach. Walking and thinking.”

“Where’d you stay?”

“Hotel Tresanton.”

“Castle Cove?”

“Yes. It was wonderful to walk in the mornings.”

“Did you do the castle tour?”

“Of course,” she laughed. “Cecily made me. And St. Michael’s Mount as well.”

“Looking for me were you?” He teased.

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned. “I also stopped in Helstone and had a look around. Gaskell fan, you know.” 

They’d arrived at the door to their office building.

“Want to come up?” he asked, tilting his head toward the door in invitation.

“Um...Sure. Thanks.”

He unlocked the main door and stood aside to let her go ahead of him, then started up the staircase behind her, waiting until she was a few steps up, hoping to avoid staring at her hips swaying as she climbed ahead of him. 

He didn’t.

She stopped on the landing in front of their office, waiting for him to join her as she dipped her hand into her handbag to locate her keys, but instead he motioned to the stairs that led to his flat. 

“Oh no. Absolutely not. If you go into that office you won’t leave until your desk is cleared. I know you Ellacott.” He held up a hand to stop her protest. “You’re nearly as keen as Ilsa. Actually. I think you may be worse.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him in mock reproof, eliciting a chuckle. But, with only a single slightly wistful, glance back at the office door, she followed him up the stairs and into his tiny flat, for only the second time in the almost three years they’d known each other. 

“You take the chair. I’ll grab drinks,” he said, motioning to the tiny Formica table set in front of his equally tiny hob. “Beer alright? Or, I can make tea?”

“Beer’s fine,” she said.

He popped the tops on a couple bottles he pulled from the small fridge, plonking one down in front of her, the other on the chairless end of the table, and then turned to rummage through a drawer, extracting two forks and knives, and laying them on the table as well. 

He then moved past her, into the loo, from which he returned with a shower stool. “Never thought this thing would end up outside the shower,” he chuckled as he sat it down at the other end of the table and pulled his box of food toward him. 

“How are things with Matthew?” He hated to bring Matthew up, hated to dim the light in her eyes, but he was afraid he’d say something he shouldn’t if they kept talking about her time in Cornwall. 

Something like, how much he wished he’d been able to show her his favorite cave, or shown her his childhood bedroom.

“He’s being an arse, as usual,” she answered. “Trina received his Acknowledgement of Service and he indicated that he plans to contest, which wasn't surprising really, but is definitely annoying.”

“Do you know why yet?”

“No. He didn’t say, and he has twenty eight days from the day we received his Acknowledgement to declare his reasons, but we’re guessing it’ll be financial. We’ve got the money from the sale of our last flat,” she explained. “Which was bought with money that was a gift from my family and some of his inheritance from his mother. Trina says she’s fairly certain that’s what it’ll be about, but she's prepared to defend anything.” She sighed tiredly, “I’m just prepared to surrender. I just want this over with and I’d rather it not drag on. Money isn’t that important.”

“I guess it’s a good thing you work with a PI then?”

“It is. But, I’m not sure she’d be able to use it if you or the guys try to find anything. I don’t know if it would be considered a conflict of interest or not.” She shrugged, then sipped her beer and raised her kebab for a bite.

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we’ll just go with what we already have and see what Trina suggests.” He took a bite of his meal, and waited. 

“Wait…” she hurriedly swallowed, her eyebrows lifting in shock, and took a gulp of beer. “Already have?”

“Ellacott,” he chided gently. “I know you didn’t think for a moment I wouldn’t set one of the guys to following him did you?”

“Seriously?” She was incredulous. 

“You’re my partner. Anything that happens to you, happens to me, happens to the agency.” His smile was wolfish as he went on, “And I’m going to make sure you have every weapon possible in your arsenal if he’s going to make this hard on you.”

“You’re serious.” Her hand went to her mouth, but the tears sparkling in her eyes told him that though she was surprised by this, she was also immensely delighted with this clearly surprising turn of events. 

“As a fucking heart attack. You can burn that white flag you were getting ready to wave...You aren’t surrendering anything to that tosser.” 

He knew his voice was fierce, but even if he wasn’t head over foot in love with her, he’d have taken these steps. 

“I know I probably should have asked you first, but you weren’t reachable and I had to do something,” he shrugged, as he took a bite of his kebab.

He swallowed and took a swig of his beer before continuing, “I have plenty of evidence and documentation that his affair with Shadlock is still continuing, not to mention the financial records Hutchins has been able to dig up. And we can get more if we need it.”

“How did you…”Robin started.

“He knows me, but I’m betting he doesn’t know Hutchins and Barclay, and trust me, they’re just as eager as I am to make sure he gets what he deserves. They’d do it for nothing more than the satisfaction of seeing him trounced in court.” 

He picked up his beer and held it in the air, mouth pointed toward her. “You fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us. You’ve got an army behind you Ellacott. Don’t you forget it.” 


	6. Good Luck, Kid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a bit. I had some family stuff to deal with and then I had to get myself back into the story, which took a while. But I'm back and hopefully the updates will be frequent, though, possibly not daily. 
> 
> As usual, many thanks and tons of love to our own @lindmea and @lindyren for being my betas and sounding boards. ❤❤❤❤❤
> 
> Today's chapter is the eponymous chapter. The song Good Luck, Kid is frenetic and upbeat and one of my favorites for dancing around while cleaning or cooking or for putting on a private concert while driving. 
> 
> And I think it captures Robin quite well. 
> 
> You can find it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pABTFWl25OQ)

_They handed you the keys_

_The driver's seat is yours now_

_There's nothing left to lean on_

_You're the queen from here on out_

_No time for doubt_

_Good luck, kid_

_Six months later…_

Robin stood, keys in hand, in the middle of her own sitting room, eyes closed, heart pounding, filled with trepidation and excitement. 

_Have I really just done this?,_ she asked herself.

She opened her eyes, taking in the plain white walls, the kitchen island, the sliding glass doors leading to her own, albeit tiny, balcony, overlooking an equally tiny garden. 

Two bedrooms and one bath in Kilburn, and it was all hers.

She bounced into a happy two step, circling the room, dancing madly, keys jingling musically in her hand.

“I take it you’re happy?” Ilsa snickered from the doorway.

“Oh my God Ilsa!” she squealed. “It’s mine! It’s really mine!” She rushed over and swept Ilsa into a hard hug. Squeezing her tightly before kissing her right on the lips.

“Well, if this is how we’re celebrating I think we’re going to need a bed, or maybe even a couch at least,” Nick teased as he entered the room behind Cormoran.

“Oh hush, you,” Ilsa swatted him.

“I’m just saying...If she’s handing out kisses I won’t say no.” He slung his arm over his wife’s shoulders, waggling his eyebrows comically at Robin.

Robin reached out and grabbed the front of his hoodie and dragged him down to her, smacking her lips against his with an exaggerated pop. 

“There! Happy now?”

“Positively ecstatic. Thanks.” He pretended to swoon and then sidestepped his wife’s playful swipe, dancing backward away from her into the empty sitting room. “Needs some paint on the walls, eh Oggy?”

Cormoran nodded his agreement, “Could do.” He turned to Robin, “I’m assuming you’ve got your colors picked out already?”

“I have, actually.”

“Got your measurements?”

“In the Rover.”

“Go grab them for us. Knickers and I’ll go get the supplies if you and Ilsa go get food.”

“Really? Tonight?” She’d thought they were only going to take a quick tour and then go to the pub for dinner to celebrate.

“Absolutely tonight,” he confirmed. “We could at least get one coat of paint on one wall. Make your mark on it, so to speak.” He met her eyes, his dark ones twinkling merrily. 

“Right! Be right back!”

Ilsa squealed and engulfed him in a hug and Robin could hear him yelling at Nick to get his woman off him as she dashed out the door, heading toward the stairs to the ground floor and out to the Land Rover.

Robin paused, as she closed the passenger door, after grabbing her binder filled with her plans from the seat, and turned to look at the blue door, standing open invitingly. 

A lump formed in her throat at the thought of what was waiting for her through that door and how hard she’d fought to get here. 

Over the last six months Robin had realized exactly how right Ilsa had been about Matthew. He’d tried every trick in the book to slow the divorce proceedings. Dickering over every dollar, as expected and, unsurprisingly, countering her petition of adultery with an accusation that she’d been doing the same with Cormoran and had continued to do so after filing for divorce.

When she’d been able to defend that- thanks to her phone records, which had showed no trace of Cormoran during her month away, in addition to Cecily’s sworn affidavit that Robin had spent the entire month of September in Cornwall, with her, alone - he’d tried to make a case for her “share” of the agency, since she was a partner, as a part of her finances.

His goal had been clear. Revenge, not only on Robin, but on Cormoran as well. After all, in his eyes, without Cormoran, Robin wouldn’t have changed so much. 

However, the contract Strike had drawn up for Robin when she’d returned to the agency after her marriage had only listed her as a junior partner, with no invested financial stake in the agency. Her partnership was a title only. 

At least on paper. 

There was nothing that Matthew could rightfully demand monetarily from her “partnership” at the C.B Strike Private Detective Agency. Her name wasn’t even on the door or on any of their marketing materials.

Cormoran had been able to provide Trina and her team with proof of Matthew’s many financial maneuverings in a clear bid to hide funds from the proceedings, as well as proof of his continuing affair with Sarah Shadlock, who had left her _fiancé_ , Tom, as soon as she’d found out Robin had walked out on Matthew.

The Decree Absolute had been granted two months earlier and finally, Robin had been freed of Matthew Cunliffe. 

She’d celebrated by contributing a quarter of her settlement to the agency, and signing the new partnership agreement Cormoran had asked Ilsa to draw up for them, making her a full partner. 

The C. B. Strike Private Detective Agency was now, Strike & Ellacott Private Investigators. 

Her name _was_ on the door this time. 

With her contribution, they’d been able to relocate their offices to a comfortable office block in Euston last month. 

And she’d had the satisfaction of knowing that Matthew had unwittingly made it all happen. 

Cormoran, however, was currently living in the spare room she’d stayed in at the Herbert’s, since the new offices hadn’t come with an attached flat this time, but he was making inquiries and was close to closing on a new flat of his own. 

As she started toward the door, binder in hand, smile bright and excited, Ilsa stepped out, waiting, and as she reached the step, handed her cellphone to her, “Thomas texted. He wants to Facetime so he can see the new flat. And, he says he has a surprise for us as well.”

“Well then, by all means,” she unlocked her phone, finding the correct contact and clicking it to start the call, as she leaned close to Ilsa so she would be visible as well.

The call was picked up immediately, “ROBBERS!!! How are you baby?” 

She laughed, grinning at the wide smile, bright as the sun, beaming out next to the man’s gorgeously dark complexion. “Happy to see you! How’s Broadway treating my super star?”

“Fabulous, angel face! Just fabulous. The gays over here are so much fun. But we already knew that. And I didn’t call to talk about it. Show me your new digs honey! Hey Ilsa!” Ilsa waved, but her phone dinged with a text. She waved Robin into the building, pointing at the side yard to indicate she’d stay outside to take the call.

“OK, but give me a minute, I have to give something to Cormoran.”

“Wait! Wait! My boyfriend is there?! Let me see him!”

About a month after she’d gotten back from Cornwall, Ilsa had introduced her to her dear friend Thomas McNeal, whose live-in boyfriend had ended things with him. Thomas was an actor and kept truly odd hours as a result, making Robin an ideal candidate to be his new roommate, her hours being nearly as bonkers as his. He also had a playful crush on Cormoran and delighted in making it known. 

Cormoran, for his part, took the teasing good naturedly and with equanimity. His usual unflappableness unchanged by Thomas’s flamboyance. 

She’d moved in with him a week after they’d met and they’d become close quickly. He’d generously supplied tickets to his, and other, West End productions resulting in Robin seeing more plays in the last six months than she’d ever seen in her life and meeting actors and actresses and all manner of people involved in the theater industry at the parties Thomas had dragged her to when he needed a plus one. 

He’d also realized she had feelings for Cormoran almost immediately. However, he’d never teased her about it, instead giving her understanding and kindness when, after he’d asked her why she hadn’t acted on them, she’d explained that she was unsure if Cormoran felt the same way about her, and was scared of risking their working relationship if he didn’t. He’d said he’d seen his fair share of showmances that resulted in casting changes and given her a hug. 

As far as she knew, he’d never even mentioned anything to Ilsa about her feelings for her partner. And though she wouldn’t have minded, since Ilsa was already aware, It had meant the world to her that he’d respected her privacy so kindly. He’d been a rock for her through all of the dramatics of her divorce and had held her hand, figuratively and literally, through many nights filled with frustrated tears. 

But he’d been offered an opportunity to go to New York for a play that was moving to Broadway a couple months ago, and having jumped at the opportunity, he’d made the decision to sell his flat. 

He’d left a month ago, and Robin missed him terribly, but she’d been delighted to find this flat, which was barely a nineteen minute commute to their new offices each morning and she’d promised him that as long as she had a room available, it was his any time he was in London. 

“Just a mo’...Hey Cormoran?” she called out in a sing-song voice. “Thomas is on FaceTime and wants to say hi!” She strode over to Cormoran, while winking at Thomas on her phone screen. Cormoran leaned down slightly, so that his face was next to Robin’s in the camera. A few strands of her hair caught in the beard he’d let grow out after being ill briefly a few weeks prior. “Hi Thomas! How’s New York?” he asked with a grin. Thomas had always been able to make Cormoran grin, and had proven talented at provoking guffaws with his over the top flirting.

“The only way it could be any better is if you were here with me. And my angel baby Robin, of course.”

“Maybe we’ll get over there some day,” Cormoran responded. “I’ve never been and would love to see it.”

“I’mma hold you to that handsome. Now, Robin, you need to show me the guest room so I can pick a color.”

“Wait, why do you get to pick the color?” she asked, nonplussed. 

“Well, I’m going to come home for a visit eventually, aren’t I?”

Robin laughed, “Sure. You can pick the color.”

“Good. I’m thinking a nice soothing green.”

“Well that’s great because that was my plan as well,” she chuckled. 

Nick wandered back into the room from the direction of the loo. “I believe I heard the dulcet tones of sweet Thomas. Am I right?” He came up behind Robin, resting his chin on her shoulder so he could see Thomas’s face on the phone screen.

“Hey Doctor Hottie! How’s it going?”

“Better now that I see your sweet face. We miss you, Bud.”

“Always so sweet. Miss you too. Robin, give him a kiss for me,” Thomas commanded.

She turned and pecked Nick’s cheek before tilting her head to rest against his where it still rested on her shoulder. “Thomas is picking the color for the guest room.”

“It’s only fair, since that’ll be my room when I come home for visits. Now, show me the room,” Thomas interjected.

“Fine,” she said on a deliberately long suffering sigh that she knew would make him cackle, before handing the binder to Cormoran to hold, flipping through it quickly, removing a paint chip, and walking back to the room she’d designated as the guest room. 

“Here. Let me turn this around real quick,” and she clicked the camera button so he could see the room instead of her. “This is the guest room. It gets minimal morning sun and is located at the rear of the flat. Two windows, as you can see. And this, “She held up the paint chip against the eggshell white wall. “Is the color I’d chosen, with you in mind.”

It was a dark, but still soft green, that would make the room seem bright when the curtains were open, but also keep it dim when they were drawn. “I’d planned to paint the trim white, to make it pop, and then put up sheer lace curtains backed by blackout curtains.”

“I love it. It’s perfect!” 

“I knew you would.” She turned to head back to the sitting room so that she could send Nick and Cormoran off on their errand, but then paused and asked, “You’re sure you’re OK with me taking your bed?”

When he’d moved he’d offered his bedroom suite and bed to her, his answer not to storing or selling them. In fact, most of the furniture that Robin would be moving in had been given to her by Thomas. 

The only new thing would be her coffee table and the massive TV Nick had talked her into. She’d _known_ it was so that he and Cormoran could watch football when they all came over for their weekly dinners, but she’d refrained from telling him so, preferring to let him think it was his idea, when she’d actually already planned to do it anyway. 

“Honey, That bed would barely fit in the guest room and you need something to roll around in with David.”

“Thomas!” she gasped. Making a shushing face at him.

“Honey, if he doesn’t know, he needs to. Maybe it’ll push him to make a move.”

“He knows. I just…” she trailed off. 

“OK. Fine.” He mimed zipping his lips. “But yes. I’m sure about the bed. It’s yours. May it give you many happier nights than it gave me,” he leered at her, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

“We haven’t slept together yet, idiot,” she whispered tightly.

And it was true, but only because having only been intimate with Matthew she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of sleeping with someone else just yet. 

She resolved to talk to Ilsa about it while they were picking up dinner tonight. 

“Ugh. Well I still want to meet him. I can’t have my sweetie dating another knobhead.”

“I’ll try to arrange it,” she said, sarcastically. “Now, quiet. I have to go back in there.”

“Fine. Fine,” he said softly before raising his voice to a normal volume. “I love it. It’s perfect. Have it done before I get home will you? Paint fumes give me headaches,” he winked at her. 

“You’re a daft git,” she giggled, rejoining Ilsa who was explaining Robin’s notes to the men. “But, I love you.”

“I love you too, babe. Chat again soon. Give my boyfriends a kiss for me. Love you, Ilsa” he called. 

The group returned the sentiments, Ilsa blowing him a kiss, and he rang off. 

Robin turned to Cormoran, nodded to the binder, “Did everything make sense?”

“Ilsa showed us what you wanted. We were just about to head out.”

“Great! Meet back here in say,” she glanced at her watch, “An hour?” She waited for everyone’s agreement. “OK then. Let’s get moving.”

So far, being on her own was turning out to be the most fun adventure she’d ever had.

She hoped it stayed that way.


	7. Stay Awake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the song for this chapter [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fQatKXSoaB0)
> 
> It's a short, but lovely one. 
> 
> The song...not the chapter.
> 
> Also, many thanks and hugs to @Hobbeshalftail3469 for helping me sort out what was where...and how they'd go about it. 
> 
> As well, to @lindmea and @Lindyren for the beta, sounding board, darlings that they are.

_I know it's hard, it's harder_

_Harder than we knew_

_I know you've been waiting_

_Longer than you thought you would_

  
  


Cormoran and Nick took off in Nick’s sporty little Audi, headed for the B&Q in Cricklewood to pick up paint and supplies. Nick beeped the horn and waved as they passed Robin and Ilsa who were starting their walk toward the Nandos a couple blocks away. 

They walked in silence, each seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Ilsa walked and fiddled with her phone, glancing up occasionally to make sure she wasn’t about to walk into anything, while Robin contemplated how to best approach the topic of David. 

She’d met David at a baking class Ilsa had cajoled her into taking after she’d moved in with Thomas. She’d used the excuse that they’d hardly get to see each other if they didn’t take the class, nevermind that they saw each other every week for curry nights that had been established the night she’d agreed to move in with them instead of the box room she’d initially rented. 

Ilsa had dropped out after the first session ended, having burned enough pies and cakes to realize she wasn’t any good at baking, but Robin had enjoyed herself immensely and had opted to continue, discovering a hobby was a wonderful way to make time for herself away from work and even though she loved them, her friends. 

She enjoyed knowing she had made friends of her own, that weren’t connected to work, or the Herberts, or Cormoran, however much she appreciated that they included her in whatever they had going on. 

And it had also made her feel like a contestant on The Great British Bake Off, even if Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry weren't there, offering handshakes and making cheeky quips about soggy bottoms. 

David had joined the class during her second session and they’d shared a bench the entire six weeks. He’d been funny and helpful and most importantly, he hadn’t made her uncomfortable or crowded into her space. Instead, he'd explained the first night that he’d been in the course on a different night, but due to a change in work obligations, had needed to switch to Wednesdays and asked if she’d mind sharing the bench, rather than just assuming she wouldn’t mind.

She’d found that before long she’d started looking forward to Wednesday evenings, at first just because they seemed to work companionably together and she’d learned a great deal from him. But at the end of the six weeks she’d joked that she didn’t know what she was going to do without him offering her a sample of whatever he’d baked, for the two weeks between sessions and he’d asked for her number, offering to meet her for coffee anytime that worked best for her.

They’d begun having coffee together on the Saturday or Sunday mornings when she didn’t have work and, unlike Matthew, he’d found her stories about being a private detective fascinating. Coffee had turned into a few casual dinner dates and evenings when he’d accompanied her to the theater when Ilsa hadn’t been available. 

And then, one evening, during their weekly curry night, Ilsa had mentioned that he’d be welcome to join them any time. Cormoran had looked up from his plate at the mention of David’s name, though he hadn’t said anything, just watched her for a few moments, as though curious how he’d not known she was seeing someone. 

In fact, she hadn’t considered that she was really dating David until he had introduced her as his girlfriend, when one of his friends had stopped at their table to say ‘hi’ during their coffee date the weekend before. She hadn’t been sure how to correct him, and hadn’t quite decided whether she wanted to or not. Nor had she figured out how to mention it, casually, to Cormoran.

While stopped at a crosswalk, Robin glanced over at Ilsa, who had just finished typing with her phone, and was tucking it into her coat pocket. She started to speak, but Ilsa spoke up first, “I suppose we’d better stop at Tesco Express before we pick up the food. We’re going to need beer and wine if we’re painting tonight.”

“Oh. Right. Good point,” Robin replied, a little too brightly. 

“I think there’s one just a little past Nandos up on Kensington High Street. Plus I’ve just ordered everything we need _at_ Nandos so we should only need to stop in and pick it up on our way back.” 

“Seems easy enough,” Robin tucked her hands a little further into her coat pockets, and then realized, “We’re going to need to get glasses for the wine. And bin bags,” which led to, “Shit...and a bin. And paper plates, and -”

“Woah, woah. Take a deep breath,” Ilsa interjected. 

“Loo roll,” Robin finished lamely.

“Yes, we definitely need all those things,” Ilsa soothed, as she tucked her arm though Robin’s. “And we’ll get them. Though I think we should go with disposable cups for the wine,” she suggested. “But why don’t you tell me why you sound like you’re about to have a panic attack? Then we can worry about the bin bags and loo roll.”

“David wants to sleep with me and I’m not ready,” Robin blurted without pausing to think. “And Thomas was teasing me about ‘rolling around in bed’ and I don’t know if I want to,” she glanced at Ilsa, “With David. In bed.” She raised the arm not wrapped with Ilsa’s, circling a finger in the air, “Rolling, you know.”

“Around, yes.” Ilsa thought for a moment. “I understand. Matthew was the last person you slept with,” she held up a hand to stop Robin’s next words. “Only person, yes I know. But it doesn’t really signify at the moment”

“How could it _not_ signify?”

“Well, did you ever make out with any other boys?” Ilsa tilted her head as if having a second thought, “Or girls?”

“ILSA!” Robin screeched, before quickly glancing around to see if anyone near them had heard her. 

“Robin!” Ilsa’s voice mocked Robin’s scandalized tone. “Some of the girls I hung around experimented at uni. It’s not that weird.” 

“No,” Robin hissed, as a man in a bowler hat with a houndstooth scarf warped up almost to his eyes, sidled past them. “I’ve never kissed any other girls and I only kissed a few other boys before Matthew decided I was the fittest girl in school. So he’s pretty much the whole of my experience.”

“OK. Well...hmmm.” Ilsa thought for a moment. “Do you find David attractive? You know, sexually?” she drew out each syllable, making Robin snort with laughter, despite her trepidation with the subject. 

“Of course he’s attractive.”

“That definitely helps, but what about…”

“Sexually...I just don’t know. I really don’t Ilsa,” she admitted. 

“Then you don’t. If you did, you’d know it. And you should only have sexual relations,” she deepened her voice comically, “With someone you can’t imagine _not_ having relations with.”

“Well then that leaves me with no one,” Robin harrumphed.

“Oh no. No way,” Ilsa protested. “I will _not_ accept that. There has to be someone you think about when you,” she lowered her voice significantly, “take care of yourself.”

“I’m sorry. When I what?” Robin was certain Ilsa wasn’t intimating what she thought she was.

“When you masterbate Robs. When you rub one out. Polish the pearl. Have a me-some? Oh…” Ilsa gasped, shocked understanding flitting into her eyes. “You’ve never…”

“I have not.” Robin could practically see the redness in her cheeks reflected in the shop windows they were passing. 

“Bloody hell.”

“Is it such a big deal?” 

“Well, no. I suppose not. But, Robs…” Ilsa trailed off. “Please tell me you’ve at least experienced an orgasm. Tell me Matthew wasn’t so much of a cunt as to leave you wanting.”

“I’m almost certain I have,” Robin nodded decisively.

“You’re...almost…No. Oh my darling Robin Venetia.” Ilsa sounded near tears.

“I said I have,” she nudged Ilsa with her elbow, certain that if she blushed any hotter she'd spontaneously combust. 

“No. What you said was that you’re almost certain that you have, which tells me that you probably haven’t. Because if you had, trust me, you’d know,” she pulled her phone back out of her pocket as they approached Nandos, and unlocked it. Robin made a noise, about to protest, when she glanced up, “Oh stop it. I’m only going to text Nicky and ask him to pick up a bin for the bin bags we’re buying. I’m not putting it on Twitter,” she half laughed as she finished the text to Nick and slid her phone back into her pocket, before looking up and seeing the stricken look on Robin’s face. “I’m sorry Robs. I really am.” She wrapped her arm around Robin’s waist and squeezed.

“Great! JUST great!” Her words were muffled as she dropped her head into her hands with a moan. “I’m nearing thirty and I don’t know for sure if I’ve ever had an orgasm. And I don’t think I want to have one with my current boyfriend, and there’s no one else that I’m interested in having one with, who’s interested in having one with me and I’m a complete failure at _life._ ” She didn’t know whether to cry or laugh, because the idea of being an almost thirty year old woman who’d never had an orgasm was simultaneously hilarious and pathetic. 

“Wait...who do you want to have one with?” Ilsa asked, the arm still around Robin’s waist jerked slightly.

“Huh?” Robin asked, nonplussed.

“You said there’s no one else that you’re interested in having an orgasm with who’s also interested in having one with you. I just wondered…” She trailed off as Robin straightened suddenly, turning her head forward and striding determinedly toward the Tesco Express just a few yards away.

“Can we just not?”

“OK. Fine,” Ilsa held up her hands in surrender, “But you’re wrong.”

Robin waited until Ilsa caught up to her, turning and meeting her eyes as she shook her head. “I am not. He’s never _once_ indicated to me that he was interested. _Not once!_ ” She caught herself before stomping her foot.

“Well, you were engaged and then married and then going through a divorce and before he knew it you were dating David. When did he have the chance babe?” Ilsa reasoned.

“He had plenty.”

“When? When you were his junior partner? Or his secretary? Come on Robin. Be fair.”

“I waited Ilsa,” Robin’s voice broke and she stepped to the side, allowing a couple to move past her and into the shop. “I even called him while I was on my honeymoon.”

Ilsa blinked, “Wait! You did what?” 

“When Matt and I were on our honeymoon, I’d decided I was going to leave him.”

“You were going to leave Matthew on your honeymoon?”

“Yes. We’d only gone on it so that we could sort out what to do without our families interfering. I spent the entire time watching him keep track of my phone, and I knew he knew that there must be something between me and Cormoran.”

“But there wasn’t,” Ilsa insisted. “Was there?”

“God! Ilsa, didn’t he tell you?” She furiously swiped away a tear that traitorously slid past her eyelashes. “I walked out of my wedding reception, during the first dance, chasing after him in front of everyone, because he was leaving and I couldn’t let him go without talking to him.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Indeed.”

“What…”

“Happened? He asked me to come back to work for him, and I told him I would and then we had this...moment,” she sighed, trying not to remember the feeling of his breath against her neck, stirring her hair. 

“It was a hug, but,” she groaned in frustration. “It was so much more. If he’d have asked me to go with him right then, I would have. Without a backward, _fucking_ , glance. No hesitation. I’d have followed him.”

“Oh shit.”

“But he didn’t. He left. And I went on my honeymoon and Matthew kept watch on my phone and I went for a walk one night, trying to figure out if I was in love with him.”

“With Cormoran? Oh Robin,” Ilsa said softly, as Robin nodded confirmation. She pulled Robin to her, hugging her close.

“And I couldn’t decide, but I knew I wanted to talk to him, so I went to the bar and I called the office, because I knew that number by heart and I knew it would ring to his mobile. But, some woman picked up. They were clearly drunk and in the middle of something,” she raised her eyebrows significantly.

Ilsa cursed violently.

Robin pulled an ironic face, “So I hung up. And then when I went back…”

“Matt was sick,” Ilsa finished for her, quietly.

Robin sniffled. Nodded. Dug through her handbag for a tissue. “And I never talked to Cormoran about it. I stayed married and he started seeing Lorelei and that was that.”

“Shit, fuck, damn and other curse words I can’t think of right now,” Ilsa seethed as she paced in front of Robin, clearly agitated. “I’m so sorry he’s such an idiot. Truly”

“It’s not your fault. I just, I guess, I thought he’d have made a move if he was interested.” She sighed, as she glanced at the time on her phone and stepped toward the door to the shop. “I suppose we’d better make a move. They’ll be back before we are at this rate.”

But Ilsa didn’t move. She waited until Robin looked back at her, “He’s interested Robin. I swear it.”

“I believe you. I do.”

“So get rid of David and we can make this happen,” Ilsa jokingly pleaded.

Robin shook her head, smoothing her hair back and wiping any traces of tears from her face. “I don’t think the timing is really right at the moment.”

“Fair enough.” Ilsa knew when to let something go. This was one of the many things Robin loved about her. Her ability to let things lie, patiently waiting, until they came back around. 

Robin tucked her arm back through Ilsa’s and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”

“I’m not sure what for.”

“For being my best friend.”

“Always.”

***

When they arrived back at Robin’s flat, loaded down with chicken and alcohol, Nick and Strike were already inside, laying down drop cloths in the sitting room and setting out rollers and paint trays. 

“Finally,” Nick exclaimed. “I thought Oggy was going to start chewing on my leg if you’d taken any longer.” He kissed Ilsa sweetly, as though they’d been apart two weeks instead of an hour and a half.

“Nandos was packed and we realized a bit late that we’d need to get beer and wine, so we had to stop at Sainsburys,” Ilsa explained, fudging the truth a little, as she set the bags she was carrying on the kitchen island. 

“S’ok,” he smiled. “Hey Robin, check this out!” He motioned her toward him as she set a bag holding a six pack of Tennents, followed by another holding a six pack of Doom Bar on the counter. 

He was shaking out a bin bag and putting it into a shiny silver bin with a lid.

“Part of our housewarming gift to you,” he stepped back, out of her way, and as she approached the bin, the lid lifted completely on its own.

“What the…” she trailed off.

“It has a sensor on it. It’s a magic bin!” Nick’s voice was filled with excited delight. “You don’t have to touch it, except to put a bag in or take one out. Isn’t it great?”

“It’s definitely interesting,” she laughed at his exuberance. 

“Chuck us a beer Knickers,” Cormoran said, shaking his head, grinning, as he watched Nick stepping in front of the bin and then moving away, playing with it like a child would a new toy.. 

Robin stepped up next to him, holding a bottle of Doom Bar out. “I figured I’d better stock up if you guys were going to be here helping me paint this weekend.” She smiled as she handed him the Swiss Army knife she’d dug out of her handbag, the bottle opener already extended.

“Cheers,” he saluted her with the bottle then popped the top off immediately and took a healthy gulp. 

“Sure.” She swung back around to Nick and Ilsa, who were debating whether to eat standing around the island, or seated on a drop cloth since the flat was currently empty except for the cans of paint and other accoutrement of the coming project. 

“Oh...wait a second,” she broke in before turning and dashing out of the room, through the hall, out the door and down the small flight of stairs. 

She swung the back door of the Land Rover open, and after tossing a few blankets out of the way, uncovered the four camp chairs she still had from the previous weekend, when they’d all gone to watch Cormoran’s nephew Jack’s football game. 

She hefted two out, slinging them over her shoulder and turned, jumped, finding Cormoran waiting to grab the other two. “Sorry, Ellacott,” he apologized. “Didn’t mean to startle you. I just remembered we’d tossed them back here last weekend. Thought you could use a hand.”

“No worries. You grab them, I’ll get the door.”

He reached in, grabbed the two chairs and stepped away to allow her to swing the door shut. 

“Jack texted me while we were at the store getting your paint. He wanted to know if he could come by and ‘help’,” he smiled, using the familiar bunny rabbit ears hand gesture. “I promised I’d ask. You can definitely say no.”

“Oh stop!” she chided. “I’d love to have his help.” 

After Jack’s appendix had burst last year, Robin had spent a day with Cormoran while he sat with him in hospital, until Lucy and her husband Greg could get a flight back from Italy, where they’d gone to celebrate their anniversary. Jack had sent her a thank you card after Cormoran had told him she'd visited and upon receiving it, she’d immediately rung Lucy to ask her to tell him thank you. Lucy had invited her to come by that weekend for a barbeque they were having to celebrate his recovery so she could tell him herself. 

From that night on, she’d been one of Jack’s favorite people. She’d started accompanying Cormoran to his football games, when they were both available, usually spending the games sitting with Lucy, chatting. Cormoran always focused on the game, erupting occasionally when a call went against Jack’s team, and cheering like a madman anytime Jack got the ball. The one time Jack had managed to score while they were there, she’d thought Cormoran would surely start jumping up and down along with her and Lucy. He’d cheered so loud Jack had heard him on the other end of the pitch and grinned, waving at them before returning to the business of the game. 

“I’ll text Lucy. Sunday alright?”

“Sure.”

She grinned at him as he stood aside, holding the door open for her to go ahead of him back into the building. However, once inside her flat they discovered Ilsa, wrapped in Nick’s arms, as she sniffled. Robin went to her immediately, glancing back to see Cormoran’s face, a study of apprehension. “Ilsa, what’s wrong?”

Nick answered, “We’ve just got a call from the fertility clinic.” He squeezed his wife harder, rubbing his hand up and down her back, his face a study of grief, leaving no doubt as to the news they’d received. 

“Oh Ilsa.” Robin stepped to her, wrapping her arms around her from behind and laying her head against her friend’s soft hair. “I’m so sorry.”

“It was...our last...try,” Ilsa hiccoughed. “The specialists said this was our last chance because I’m getting too old.”

“Bullshit!” Cormoran erupted, frustrated on behalf of his oldest friends. 

“It’s not though, Corm. I’m nearing forty,” Ilsa sniffled.

Robin stepped back, as Ilsa brought her hands up to wipe her eyes. 

She watched as her indomitable friend squared her shoulders and pushed her hair back, concealing her pain as though donning a suit of armor. 

And in that moment, she made a decision.

“Ilsa, what if I tried for you?” she asked. 

Ilsa’s head snapped up so fast Robin thought her neck might have broken. Nick met her eyes, his own filled with the beginnings of a denial, but Robin held her hand up. 

“I’m sorry?” Ilsa asked, clearly unsure she’d heard Robin correctly.

“Honestly? I was afraid this might happen, though, obviously, we were all hoping it wouldn’t, and I’ve been doing some research. If you have any eggs left at the specialist, and I pass their health screenings, I’d be absolutely willing to be your surrogate.”

“Robin, what -” Cormoran started, before she cut him off with a glance. 

“I’m perfectly healthy, and while I’m not truly interested in having children of my own, nor does it look like I’m going to have that option,” she chuckled humorlessly. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t have the chance. And I’d be so honored to do that for you.” She stepped forward and took Ilsa’s hand. 

“I don’t…” Ilsa started.

“I didn’t want to say anything before. Because we were all hoping for the best, but I’ve been researching it for ages, just in case,” she looked over to Nick. “It’s called an altruistic surrogacy, because I wouldn’t require payment.” She looked into Ilsa’s eyes, “If you can afford the procedure, I can afford the time.”

Ilsa dissolved once more into tears. 

“Robin, no. We couldn’t possibly ask you...” Nick trailed off, his voice thick with emotion. 

“You aren’t, Knickers,” she took his hand as well, squeezed it tightly as her eyes welled up. 

“I’m volunteering. I want to.” Tears spilled over, trailing down her cheeks, as she glanced over at Cormoran, who had been utterly silent since she’d cut him off. “I can’t think of another couple who _deserve_ the opportunity to be parents more than you.” As she felt Ilsa’s hand tighten in hers, she whispered, throat tight, eyes drenched, “You’ve both done so much for me. Please,” she pleaded. “Please let me give you this, if I can.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FOOTNOTE: According to [surrogate.com](https://surrogate.com/) (this is the website I’m basing my surrogacy information on, so if something isn’t correct and I haven’t noted it like I have here...blame it on the website) Robin doesn’t meet two of the requirements...So I’m going to ask you to suspend your disbelief for this story...Because it’s been rattling around in my head for nearly a year and I couldn’t figure out how to make it work the way I wanted to without those two requirements being met. You can find the list of requirements, [here](https://surrogate.com/surrogates/becoming-a-surrogate/how-can-i-become-a-surrogate-mother/). 


	8. Whirlwind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it's been so long since I've updated this. I got a bit distracted. And I'm making no promises on updates at this point...Because I've only got one chapter written after this one (technically two...but the other one isn't this soon in the story) and I promised myself I'd stay ahead on this one...So...I'm hoping that posting this will push me to write another chapter and then I can post more...Fingers crossed that it works. 
> 
> This chapter is based on the song Whirlwind. You can find it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Up_0Yt0TDu4).

_Whirlwind_

_This is where you start to pull me in_

_I hear a voice that is whispering_

_In the whirlwind_

  
  


“I guess I don’t understand why you wouldn’t discuss this with me first, that’s all I’m saying. It’s a pretty big decision to make without consulting me.”

“I didn’t think about consulting you because up until a week ago I didn’t know that you thought of me as your girlfriend,” Robin responded mildly, lifting her paper coffee cup and taking a small sip, hoping it would grant her the patience she was desperately searching for. 

When she’d met David this morning for their standing coffee date, he’d pecked her cheek and asked how her weekend had been. She’d told him about moving into her flat, the painting, the massive impromptu dinner she’d had with the Herberts and Cormoran, who’d taken a call from their Met contact and friend Eric Wardle, and ended up inviting him and his partner and Robin’s close friend, Vanessa Ekwensi to join them, without her knowing. 

Wardle and Vanessa had shown up with a bottle of champagne for the celebration, surprising her and creating an impromptu housewarming party. 

She’d just finished telling him about the offer she’d made to the Herberts.

And for some reason he felt he had a right to have an opinion on it. 

“How could...Robin, we’ve been ‘dating’ for four months now. How does that _not_ make you my girlfriend?” David asked, incredulous. 

“The last time someone referred to me as his girlfriend it was after he asked me if I _wanted_ to be,” she replied. “You just...assumed and didn’t even bother to discuss it with me.”

David sat, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Well, you didn’t say anything then. And anyway, are you seeing anyone else?”

“No. I’m not. And I didn’t say anything because it was, quite frankly, a bit of a shock.”

“Well, if you’re not seeing anyone else, then we’re exclusive. Ergo…” he gave a little shrug, as though it was a fait accompli. 

“No. There is no ‘ergo.’ You didn’t consult me, you just made an assumption and now _you’re_ upset because I didn’t consult you on something that’s honestly, not something I need to clear with you.”

“Fine, let’s have a conversation now. You know I care a great deal for you, and I want, very much, to be a part of your life,” he reached out, laying a hand over hers, conciliatory. But she slid her hand out from under his, and picked up her cup again. “I want to discuss this.”

“There isn’t a discussion to be had. I’m doing this, David” she maintained. “Nick and Ilsa are my best friends. And they deserve the chance to be parents. I can make that happen for them.”

“Robin, I understand. I even think it’s very kind of you to offer, but I thought we were just getting serious,” he pressed. “How are we supposed to take that next step in our relationship if you’re pregnant?” He lifted his hands in question. 

It had slowly been becoming clear to Robin that she’d made a mistake with David. She’d misunderstood him, thinking he was nothing like Matthew because he’d been so kind and curious about her life and her career. 

But those things, while different, weren’t enough to conceal the fact that he thought nothing of putting his career over her needs. He’d begged off three dinners he’d been invited to, pleading work as an excuse. 

He’d increasingly begun pressuring her to go to bed with him, even though she’d made it very clear that wasn’t something she was willing to do just yet. And though she hadn’t been completely honest with him about why, she had explained that she’d only ever slept with Matt, which was at least part of the truth, and all she’d felt comfortable sharing.

Which, now that she thought about it, should have been a red flag in and of itself.

She stood, picking up her cup and slinging her handbag over her shoulder, “Listen, David. I don’t think this is going to work.”

“Wait. What?” he exclaimed, incredulous, starting to scramble out of his seat. 

She looked down at him, “I don’t want to do this, whatever, _this_ ,” she moved a finger back and forth between them, “is. I don’t want to do this. I’m not ready. I’m sorry.”

As she turned to leave, he made a grab for her hand. “Robin...wait”

She whipped back around, yanking her hand away from him, “Don’t touch me.”

“Be reasonable, Robin.”

“I am. Trust me. I’m being as reasonable as I can possibly be. I’ve just divorced a man like you. And I’m not interested in history repeating itself,” she finished and strode away, pulling her phone out of her handbag and dialing Ilsa immediately. 

She was shaking with anger. 

Not at David. 

At herself.

“Hey Robs,” Ilsa answered. “I’m glad you called. I just got off the phone with our fertility doctor and she let me know that we definitely still have some viable eggs.”

“That’s great Ils!” The moment she’d heard her friend’s voice she’d felt the tension in her shoulders slide away. “I go for my screening this week, and once I pass that they’ll start me on the Doxycycline and Lupron and I’ve already started prenatal vitamins. I’ve been using over the counter ones for about three months now, just in case, though I’m sure they’ll want to prescribe something different.”

“You’re a bloody marvel. I swear,” Ilsa sniffed and Robin could tell she’d teared up a bit. Ilsa cleared her throat before continuing, “You’re still coming to dinner tonight right? I have the contract that Trina put together for us and I’m hoping Cormoran won’t mind being our witness.”

“I am _definitely_ coming to dinner tonight,” Robin confirmed. “However, David, will not be.”

“Work again?” Ilsa asked kindly, though she was unable to disguise the slight tone of doubt in her voice. 

“No. I ended things.”

“Wait...When?”

“Just now. Literally just before I called you.”

“Oh Robs! I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. He wasn’t the right one. I should have seen it before.”

“But still…” Ilsa sympathized. “How’d he take it?”

“Well, I actually don’t really know. I kind of just got up and told him I couldn’t do this. And walked away. He tried to stop me, grabbed my hand, and my reaction to that wasn’t…”

“I can imagine,” Ilsa chuckled. 

“I feel so stupid.”

“No. Don’t. You aren’t. It was a good try. And you needed to try.” 

“I suppose,” Robin sighed. “I just...I realized, he’s just a different version of Matthew. Only this one had dark hair and eyes and a nice Irish accent,” she smiled at Ilsa’s chuckle at the irony in her tone. 

“Don’t be too hard on him. He just wasn’t the right fit.”

“I know,” she sighed again, this time ending with a buzzing of her lips. “Need me to bring anything, other than the Sticky Toffee Pudding, for dinner?”

“Not a thing. I’ve got it all under control. We’ll see you around seven.”

“Roger that,” Robin responded brightly.

“And don’t forget that Corm is bringing Julie.”

“Ah...yes. Julie.” 

Cormoran had met Julie just after Robin had begun dating David. Julie’s son played for Jack’s football team. She’d been seated near them at one of Jack’s games and had caught his attention when she’d jeered the referee loudly after a bungled call. 

He’d joined her, yelling loudly at the ref, and before the end of the game they’d been laughing and joking, and pointing out their respective players. She’d begun looking for them at subsequent games and had begun sitting with them. Before long, Cormoran had asked her out for a drink, and they’d begun dating. 

Robin had tried to like Julie. She was perfectly friendly and kind, even if she was a little loud and showy. 

But she treated Robin with polite friendliness and Robin tried to respond in kind. 

She felt sure that if she’d met Julie without Cormoran around she’d never have befriended her. But it didn’t make her feel any less guilty for not looking forward to seeing her at dinner tonight. 

“They’re bringing wine and beer, so everything is covered,” Ilsa was saying. 

“Got it. See you at seven then. I’m at my train.”

“Ta ra.”

And Ilsa rang off. 

Robin descended the steps to the Tube, trying to push away a feeling she was very much afraid was jealousy. 

***********

Cormoran turned the knob and opened the door, knocking and calling out, “Hope you’re decent,” as he and Julie stepped into the hall at ten past seven that evening. 

Nick appeared, bundled into a cream cable knit sweater, a smile warming his eyes. “You’re late,” he said as he bent to kiss Julie’s cheek before clapping his hand against Cormoran’s back in welcome. 

“We’re right on time. Aren’t we Julie?” he turned to his date. 

She chuckled, shaking her head as she handed the wine she was carrying off into Nick’s waiting hands. “Right on time.”

They followed Nick into the house and exchanged greetings with Robin, who was sliding the evening's dessert into the oven to warm, and Ilsa, who was dressing a salad at the kitchen island. 

“No David?” Julie asked Robin.

“Sadly, no. That ended this morning,” Robin said with a shrug, studiously avoiding Cormoran’s eyes.

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Julie replied, looking genuinely sorry. 

“It’s OK. I just don’t think I’m really ready to actually date anyone just yet,” Robin said. “Want me to pour you a glass of this?” She held up the wine Nick had just opened and set on the counter.

“Sure. Thanks Robin!”

Robin reached down another wine glass from the overhead rack under the cabinets and poured a generous measure, sliding it to Julie, and then turned to pull a bottle of Doom Bar from the refrigerator, popping the top and extending her arm toward, “Cormoran?”

He glanced over, lifted his eyebrows in silent thanks, and accepted the bottle, trying to keep his attention on what Nick was saying about Tottenham’s chances in their upcoming game. 

He’d heard Robin’s exchange with Julie, though he’d been looking at Nick. He’d felt his stomach clench as he realized, she was single, again.

And he couldn’t stop the feeling of hope from surging in his chest. Try though he did to stanch it. 

He had Julie. 

Who was great. 

She was funny, exuberant, and willing to watch the football. 

She didn’t mind his odd hours and had yet to try to put any constraints on his time. 

Nor was she interested in falling in love.

She only wanted companionship. 

She was pretty much perfect. 

He glanced over at her, chatting with Robin and Ilsa as they set the table for dinner. Her blond hair curled and swept back from her face with combs, her brown eyes laughing at something Ilsa was saying. 

She was nearly perfect.

She turned, catching him watching her, and smiled sweetly.

She’d been so excited to be invited to this standing dinner for the first time. More than once she’d texted him that she was looking forward to it, an unusual amount of anxiety taking hold of her. 

This afternoon she’d texted him, “I hate to ask, but, what should I wear?”

He’d chuckled, amused that she was coming to him for advice on clothing. 

“I don’t know. But make sure it's comfortable. We eat a lot,” he’d responded and received a frowning emoji, followed by, “You’re absolutely no help,” in response. 

When he’d met her at the Tube station, she’d been wearing a dark pair of denim skinny jeans, with a cherry red sweater under her black peacoat and black, knee high, boots. She’d held out her hands and turned, clearly asking for his appraisal. 

“You look wonderful,” he’d reassured her as she took his arm and began walking toward Octavia Street. 

“No thanks to you,” she’d laughed, squeezing his arm in a sort of hug. 

Now, she was, seemingly, right at home amongst his friends. Chatting and laughing and happy. No sign of the anxiety she’d been exhibiting earlier. 

But it was easy to feel at home here in Octavia Street. 

Both he and Robin had spent a considerable amount of time here. 

In fact, he was still pitched up in the spare bedroom, while he waited for the closing on the flat he’d finally made an offer on in Camden. 

Ilsa reached over the island and picked up the salad bowl, turned and plonked it on the table before calling out to him and Nick, “Hey! Stop talking about the footie and come eat.”

Dinner was noisy and, as usual, full of playful ribbing. 

Julie had even participated, teasingly telling the group about his unhelpful advice to wear something comfortable because they ate a lot at these dinners, earning a lamenting, “Corm!” from Ilsa and a laughing, “Well, he wasn’t wrong,” from Robin. 

“No. He certainly wasn’t,” Julie laughingly agreed as Robin handed her a slice of pudding. 

“Oh, Ils, did you have that paperwork for me?” Robin asked, as she handed Cormoran his slice. His stomach roiled, her words producing a feeling akin to a thunderstorm in his gut.

“Sure. Let me grab it from my bag. You can look it over and if you feel you need to, request changes.”

“I’m sure I won’t need to. Tricia knows what we want. I trust her,” Robin called as Ilsa ducked out of the room.

“Paperwork?” Cormoran asked, even though he already knew what it was.

“The contract.”

“Oh. Are you going into business together?” Julie asked, innocently.

“In a manner of speaking,” Robin chuckled. “I’m going to be Nick and Ilsa’s surrogate.”

“Surrogate?” 

“Unfortunately, Ils and I have had a few issues starting a family,” Nick explained. “We’ve tried everything, IUI, IVF, every acronym out there. But nothing’s worked.”

“So, I’ve offered to carry their baby for them. Since I’m young and healthy and capable,” Robin concluded, smiling warmly at him, before shifting her focus to Cormoran. 

He tried to smile back. But his thoughts were whirling in his head, anger, confusion, helplessness, all coupled with shame for feeling those things in the first place.

Meanwhile, Julie’s eyes welled up as she smiled at Robin, “Oh Robin! How kind of you.”

Nick squeezed Robin’s hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing her knuckles sweetly. “Rob here, is our hero.”

“She certainly is!” Ilsa agreed as she reentered the room carrying a small sheaf of papers that she handed over to Robin. 

Ilsa glanced over at Cormoran, “You won’t mind witnessing it will you? If she feels comfortable signing this evening?”

Cormoran was momentarily nonplussed. “What, already?”

Robin glanced up from her reading, “Yes. I’m already on the birth control and I’m supposed to go for my medical screening this week. If all goes well they’ll start me on the antibiotics and hopefully they'll do the embryo transfer in the next few months.”

He tried to conceal the shock coursing like lightning through his brain. He hadn’t realized they’d move this fast. 

That it could happen so quickly. 

“But, what about Nick and Ilsa’s part?”

“We have twelve embryos frozen Corm,” Ilsa explained. “They’ll use one of those to transfer to Robin.”

“Oh. Well,” he stammered, groping for words. “I didn’t realize.”

“ Why would you?” Robin asked, as she flipped to the final page of the document. 

A hush fell over the table as she finished reading. 

He could feel Ilsa and Nick practically vibrating with anticipation. 

He fought against the urge to beg Robin to stop. To not do this. 

He knew it was selfish. 

He knew Nick and Ilsa deserved this opportunity.

He _wanted_ them to become parents. 

But Robin was single now. And...

“What exactly is the contract for though?” Julie broke the silence, her voice like thunder in his ears, though she’d spoken at a normal volume. 

“Basically, it just protects both Nick and I and Robin. It covers the financial agreements and everything about the pregnancy, who will go with her to the medical appointments, who will be with her when she delivers, that kind of thing,” Ilsa replied. “This situation is a little different from most surrogacy situations though.”

“How so?” Julie asked, glancing over at him, as though expecting him to stop her from asking.

“Well, for one, I’m not benefiting financially from this. They aren’t paying me. Though some surrogates do get paid, quite well, for doing this kind of thing,” she shrugged. “This is what is called a ‘gestational altruistic surrogacy’ and it’s quite similar to what would happen if a gay couple wanted to have a baby,” Robin began, turning to Nick as he spoke up. 

“In that instance, they’d usually ask a female member, usually a sister, of one of their families to donate an egg for the man who is not related to them to fertilize, then she’d carry that baby to term for them.” 

“OK. That makes sense. That way the other father’s DNA is in the egg.” Julie said.

“Exactly,” Ilsa smiled at Julie. “And she’d do it altruistically, without financial gain, because it’d be adding to her family.” She glanced at Cormoran, meeting his eyes and holding them. 

He resisted the urge to squirm under her regard. 

He knew Ilsa knew what he was thinking. 

She’d known him since practically birth. 

She knew how he’d felt about Robin. 

There was no doubt she knew the tempest raging in him right now, even though they hadn’t discussed those feelings in nearly six months.

Shame swelled in his chest again, as Ilsa continued, her attention moving to Julie.

“Robin’s not technically related to us, but she _is_ a very close friend, and so she’s volunteered to do the same sort of thing, only we’re using one of my eggs that was already fertilized by Nick and then frozen.”

“But what about the doctors bills and such? I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to ask so many questions. I’ve just never…”

“Met anyone who’d had to do something like this?” Robin chuckled as Julie nodded. “Nick and Ilsa will be covering those expenses. As well as any pregnancy related expenses I might have like...um...” Robin thought for a moment. “Maternity clothes,” she finished. 

“Small price to pay, for being a living genie,” Ilsa sniffled.

“I just want to give them their dream,” she grinned at Nick, who blew her a kiss, followed by a wink. “They helped me immensely when I needed it, and now it’s my turn,” she turned to Cormoran. “Got a pen?”

He reached into his pocket, extracting a Biro and handing it over. “Are you sure you’re alright with stopping surveillance while you’re carrying?”

They’d discussed it briefly the day after she’d volunteered to do this. He’d been astounded that she’d be willing to remain office bound during the pregnancy. He knew she loved being on the streets, staking out their marks and gathering the evidence for cases. 

“I am. Michelle is reliable and happy to take over for me for the time being,” Referring to a recent hire they’d made. A woman recommended by Wardle and Vanessa, who’d been on the Met for a while before having to resign to care for her ill mother. 

“Plus, I can still do the research, which I love,” She grinned at Julie. “And we really do need a receptionist, so I’ll be conducting a search and managing the interviews. Then training them while I’m office bound,” Robin said. “It’s a worthy trade off. And it’s not forever,” she reminded him with a soft smile.

“No. I suppose not,” he replied, softly, not quite able to meet her eyes, as she gripped the pen. 

“OK,” Robin grinned around the table. “Here we go!” 

She lowered the pen to the contract and signed with a flourish, before passing the pen and contract to Ilsa, who signed with a watery laugh before passing both to Nick. 

When Nick had scrawled his signature, Robin took them and handed them down to Cormoran, pointing to the line he was to sign as the witness. 

He picked up the pen and held it over the paperwork. Hesitating momentarily as he glanced at Robin’s smiling face. 

He felt like he was signing his own life away for the next year. 

Robin was about to try to get pregnant. 

And she was single. 

As his thoughts swirled, like a malignant whirlwind in his head, he lowered the pen, signed, and then sighed. 

He reached for his beer bottle and dutifully held it aloft, “To the future Baby Herbert. May you come swiftly, arrive safely, and be loved deeply by everyone you meet.”

The cheers echoed around the table as everyone else drank.

But the beer in his mouth tasted like ashes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe that the NHS covers fertility treatments and such (let me know if I'm wrong) and I know Lula let me know that the only surrogacy allowed in the UK is an altruistic one...But I wrote this before I realized that, and so I'm sticking with what I wrote since I did the literal metric ton of research to get this far. I didn't want it to go to waste. Hope that's understandable. 🤣
> 
> I hope, if you're new to AO3 and this fandom, that you'll find me on Tumblr. I can be found there as [BlueRobinWrites](https://bluerobinwrites.tumblr.com/).


	9. Hundred Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know there's been a wait on this...And I am so sorry about that. 
> 
> But...Hopefully, now that we have our lovely little Strike Fam on Discord, I'll be able to keep going with this and finish it. 🤞🏻
> 
> But many thousands of thanks to my two muses. Without @pools_of_venetianblue and @mcclinds...I swear, I'd never get anything done with this fic. They're angels and part of the reason I've gotten this far. ❤
> 
> This chapter is based on the song Hundred Ways. You can find my favorite version of it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avwYaVnTj9s).

_These are the times_   
_When going up is not a straight line_   
_I cannot tell_   
_If this way goes toward heaven or hell_

Cormoran woke up the following morning feeling as though he hadn’t really slept at all. Going about his usual morning routine, wee, then a tea, followed by a shower and brushing his teeth, he tried to ignore the churning in his chest. Anxiety at how he was going to face Robin today, and successfully hide how he felt about this whole situation was eating him alive. 

It was a kind thing she was doing. A brave thing. And he was proud of her. 

But that didn’t stop him from feeling selfish because he’d hoped that this would be the time for them. 

He got dressed and ready for the day and grabbing his keys, wallet and phone from the bedside table he headed out the front door and down Octavia street toward the Tube, still ruminating on the previous evening. 

Robin had left dinner last night with a bounce in her step and a smile on her face. 

He had not.

Instead, he had walked Julie to the Tube station, intending to set a date for them to get together later that week, but Julie had, apparently, had other plans. 

“You didn’t seem terribly excited for Nick and Ilsa tonight,” she’d said, her tone quiet and slightly hesitant. 

“Hmm?”

“Well, I guess I’d assumed that you’d be nearly as excited for them as they are for themselves. Especially since it’s obviously been something they’ve wanted for a long time.”

“I am excited for them,” he said truthfully. “I’m just nervous.”

“Why?”

“Well, I don’t want to see them get their hopes dashed.”

“Why would that happen?”

“What if Robin can’t get pregnant? Or what if Robin loses the baby? Or, what if Robin has a terrible pregnancy?”

“Sounds to me like you’re more worried for Robin,” Julie said, perceptively, her voice tinged with a lightness that rang false. 

“I suppose I am,” Cormoran admitted. “She _is_ my partner. If something goes wrong, it could be an issue. But all of those things affect Nick and Ilsa as well.”

Julie stopped, turning to look up at him in the light of a streetlamp. Her head tilted, eyes slightly narrowed, assessing him. “True, they would, but I’m not so sure it’s Nick and Ilsa or the business you’re worried about.”

“Of course I am,” he protested. “Anything that happens to Robin, happens to the agency. If she has issues it’s a problem, for all of us,” he pulled his cigarettes out of his pocket, lit one, taking a deep inhale and letting it out in a rush. “Honestly, I’m not too excited about her volunteering for this without really talking it out with me.”

“Why should she have to Corm? It’s her body and you’re not married,” Julie pressed gently.

“I know that,” he shook his head. “But her body,” he stopped himself. “ _She,_ is necessary for our business to run properly, that’s all.”

“It sounded to me like she had that all worked out though,” she’d pressed again, harder this time. “You agreed that she can still work from the office, or even her own home if she needs to. And pregnancy isn’t forever you know,” she’d reminded him gently. “I think there’s something else upsetting you. And I think I know what it is.”

As she’d gone on he’d felt his temper rising. He’d felt he was being lectured, even though she wasn’t being truly antagonistic. “And what’s that?” he’d asked mildly.

Julie’s head tilted again and she stared at him for a few moments, as though judging her next words carefully. 

“I think you have feelings for Robin,” she ignored his muttered oath at her words. “It’s not bullshit Corm. You obviously care a great deal for her…”

“Of course I do,” he interrupted. “She’s my business partner and friend.”

“She’s more than just a business partner and friend though. The way you watch her as though she’s a book you’d like to sit and read for the rest of your life, I wish my ex had looked at me that way. Maybe he wouldn’t be my ex then,” she waved that away. “Every time she moved tonight, you followed her with your eyes. No,” she she stopped him as he began to protest. “It’s true. And I think the idea of her being pregnant is throwing you off because you’d hoped that you’d end up with her eventually.”

“That’s just bollocks. Complete shit, Julie,” he burst out, pacing away from her.

“Is it though? Really?” she asked, kindness lacing her words again. “You talk about her often.”

“I can’t really not talk about her when she’s involved in just about everything I do,” he’d interjected, before taking a frustrated drag from his cigarette and blowing the smoke out in a controlled stream..

“Fair enough. But I don’t know many business partners who spend as much time together as you two seem to, outside of the business.”

“What’m I doing with you if I have feelings for Robin, then?” he demanded, unable to deny her point but not wanting to admit it. Afraid that she’d be upset and rain recriminations down on his head if he did. 

“When you asked me out, you made it clear that this wouldn’t be a permanent thing, and I was alright with that because I didn’t want anything but a good time for now,” she smiled at him and laid a hand on his arm. “I’m not upset with you Corm. I’m not trying to catch you out,” she reassured him. “I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me?” He’d felt his eyebrows arch incredulously. In his experience, a woman pointing out that you had feelings for a woman other than themselves was not a good thing, nor was it something they were willing to ‘help’ with. 

“Yes,” Julie confirmed. “I think Robin has just as many feelings for you as you do for her and I think it’s time for you two to address them while you’re both single,” she took his hand, squeezing it warmly whilst also tugging him along the pavement toward the Tube station. 

He knew he couldn’t deny that he had feelings for Robin. Julie was obviously perceptive enough to have seen it. And that scared him. If Julie had seen it, would Robin? 

He knew the feelings he had for Robin were more than what he should have for a business partner and “friend”. But he’d never really allowed himself to actually _define_ those feelings, nor to contemplate actually acting on them. 

“And am I single then?” he asked.

“You are if you want to be,” she replied easily. 

“That simple?” 

He was sure it could never be that simple. 

It never was. 

“One hundred percent, that simple,” she confirmed with a firm nod.

“What about the boys’ games?”

“What about them? We can still hang out and see each other,” she reassured him. “We’re still friends, Corm. That hasn’t changed.” She slid her arm around his waist, tugging him toward her in a sideways hug. 

“Really?” he asked, mild disbelief in his tone. 

It was never this easy.

“Really,” she said with a half laugh. “You were honest from the beginning. Which I appreciated. But, so was I,” she shrugged before looking up at him with a slightly wicked twinkle in her eye. “I’ll definitely miss sleeping with you,” she teased, making him chuff out a laugh. “But you deserve a chance to give it a try between you two,” she said, her tone kind. 

He looked away, finishing his cigarette and tossing it into the gutter. 

“I don’t know if she feels the same way, Jules. She’s never given me any indication.”

“I’m going to bet she has and you’ve just missed it. I could see there was something between you at the first match you came to together, and honestly, I thought you were already a couple,” she encouraged. “So I was surprised when you asked me out. But I went with it. Thank God!”

“I’m glad you did.” 

“So am I,” she smiled softly at him. “But you and Robin...You just had this…” she made a grasping motion in the air, as though trying to find the right word. “Thing,” she threw her hands up in frustration. “A spark. You just looked like a unit.”

“I had no idea,” and he meant it. He’d tried so hard to hide it, his feelings for her being so tangled in everything they were.

“It was palpable,” she enunciated each syllable. “But then you asked me out and I realized that you weren’t together, but it didn’t make sense. Then I found out that you were business partners and it made even less sense. But I went with it,” she grinned wickedly. “Thank goodness.” 

He laughed again, as she’d meant him to do. And then reached out and pulled her close. Hugging her before kissing the top of her head. 

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. But, I have to ask,” she pulled back, her cheeky grin reappearing, “You don’t happen to have a brother just like you, do you?”

His lips quirked. “I have brothers, but not one you’d like.”

“Bugger. One of a kind. Shit,” she dropped her forehead to his chest. 

“Sorry,” and he meant it. 

“Ah, don’t be,” she waved his apology off. 

“Can’t help it.”

“You can make it up to me by getting your shit together and figuring out this thing between you two. You both deserve to be happy.”

“You do too,” he smiled sadly.

“I will be,” she patted his chest. “There’s got to be someone out there for me.”

“I can’t wait to meet him. And,” he added. “If you need a background check…” he trailed off, giving her a wink.

“Hmmm. An interesting offer. I may take you up on that.”

He pulled her back in. “Thanks Jules.”  
“You’re welcome,” she’d said, her voice muffled by his coat. 

And after exchanging a final kiss on the cheek, he’d watched her into the station, before pulling out his cigarettes and lighting another for the walk back to Octavia Street.

He’d known he’d had feelings for Robin since long before her marriage and subsequent divorce. He’d endured teasing from Nick and Ilsa countless times and even Wardle had made comments. 

But he’d never really thought they’d actually get together. He’d not realized there was a chance that she might feel the same way. 

She’d always been attached to Matthew. 

That sapphire ring a barrier that he’d initially welcomed, but, as the months and years had gone on, he’d begun to resent it. 

He’d tried to stamp his feelings down, especially after she’d married Matthew. 

She’d made her choice and it hadn’t been him. 

Not that she’d known he was a choice she could make. 

But no matter how he’d tried he’d not been able to ignore the moments when she’d affected him most. 

Those moments when his feelings for her had nearly drowned him.

Their embrace at her wedding, when he’d almost asked her to come away with him.

“Come with me,” he'd almost said.

The words on the tip of his tongue, burning to be released.

But the words were never spoken.

And he'd walked away.

And she’d walked back to Matthew.

And he’d left the tiny shattered pieces that had fallen from his heart to be swept from the stairs, the next morning.

Then, the afternoon at the hospital, when Jack had been ill and she’d dropped everything, risking a row with Matthew, to come stay with him until Lucy and Greg arrived. 

The accidental meeting of their lips, hers lips so soft against his, and the smell of stocks and asphalt mingling with her scent. 

The afternoon she’d told him she’d left Matthew, when his heart had been pounding nearly out of his chest with hope as he’d put his arm around her on the motorway verge. 

The way she’d sparkled standing in her flat that first night. Her eyes so bright a blue there almost hadn’t been a trace of grey as she’d grinned up at his offer to get her the paint.

Looking back, he could see countless times when he should have made a move.

When she’d come home from Cornwall, embarrassed and apologetic. 

When she’d joined him in the garden at Nick and Ilsa’s, so many times, chatting amiably about cases, or her new hobby, while he’d smoked and listened and wanted nothing more than her smile and laughter to continue. 

When she’d brought her first cake to the office and cut him a slice for breakfast, delivering it and a mug of tea to him with a shy smile and then a laugh as he’d wolfed it down in seconds and held out the plate for seconds.

But then she’d met David.

And he’d realized he’d missed his chance.

And now, she was acting as surrogate for Nick and Ilsa.

He _knew_ he should be happy for them. 

And he was.  
  
He wanted to see them finally become parents. 

He wanted to see them happy. 

He didn’t even mind the thought of being a godfather to the little one. He knew Ilsa wouldn’t allow him to _not_ be present. 

He just wasn’t sure how he felt about Robin being the one to carry the baby.

Would it be weird? 

Could he ask her out if she was pregnant?

Even though they were both single now?

Wasn’t her pregnancy another barrier? 

Like the sapphire ring before it?

It felt inappropriate. 

It felt wrong. 

But…

It’s not like she’d be pregnant with another man’s child.

Well...another man she’d dated. 

She was just acting as a stand in. 

How would Nick and Ilsa feel about it?

Would they think it was weird?

Would it bother them to think of him pursuing Robin while she was pregnant with their child?

He knew Ilsa wanted him to make things happen with Robin. 

But would she still be OK with it when Robin was carrying her child?

“Morning!” Robin called, interrupting his thoughts, as she entered the office.

“Hey!” he called out, pushing himself out of his chair and making his way into the common area of their new office in time to see her hang her black peacoat on the peg by her office door. 

Her hair was long and straight today, laying over her left shoulder in a river of bronze. 

She grinned at him, clearly cheerful and radiating excitement, as she crossed the room, heading toward their kitchen area. 

“Sorry I didn’t pick up coffee this morning,” she apologized. 

“That’s it...Pack up your office,” he glowered comically. 

“Oh hush,” she rejoined with a grin as she flicked the kettle on and took down their mugs. “I have an appointment today with Ilsa’s doctors. They were only available at eleven so I took it. I was hoping you could take my appointment with Mrs. Lamarre? She thinks her husband is cheating on her and just needs to give us the schedule and pertinents so we can set a tail.” 

She opened the tea tin, extracting two tea bags and dropped one in each mug, then leaned back against the counter, contemplating him as he nodded his assent and took a seat at the small table she’d scavenged from a thrift shop when they moved to this location. 

“You OK?” she asked, her head tilting and brows lowering in concern. 

“Sure. Why?”

“Nothing really, you just seem a bit off is all.”

She turned back to the counter as the kettle clicked, pouring water into their mugs and then trapping the bag in his mug under a spoon to help it stay submerged and steep to the dark color he preferred. 

“Nothing wrong at all,” he managed, though he had to look away from her, even though she wasn’t looking at him. He felt oddly, like he was lying to her. There wasn’t really anything _wrong_ , he was just a bit unsettled. 

And he knew he wasn’t ready to talk about it with her. 

“Got any of those biscuits you made left?” he asked as she brought him his mug.

“You know I haven’t because you plowed through them by the end of the day when I brought them in,” she said fondly exasperated. 

He shrugged, “You might have made more.”

“Not a chance. I haven’t had a chance to get to the shop this week. And if I had made more, you’d have been the first to find out.”

He grinned at her as he took a sip of his perfectly brewed tea. 

This was another of those moments. 

When her smile was radiant and they were relaxed with each other. 

When it seemed like all he’d have to do is reach over and take her hand and ask her to go to dinner with him. 

But he knew it wasn’t that simple. 

He knew he needed to talk with Ilsa before he could do anything.

He knew he needed to think on how _he_ felt about carrying on with a pregnant woman. Even though he _knew_ it shouldn’t be a problem for him...it was. 

He glanced across the table at Robin, who was reading something on her phone, while she sipped her tea. 

She looked up from her phone to find him watching her, “What’s up?”

He was momentarily flummoxed. Caught off guard, he was unsure what she may have seen in his face. “Um...I,” he hastily raised his cup again, taking a scalding gulp, and struggling not to cough at the sensation of nearly boiling tea running down his throat. “Did you have any notes you could email me about Mrs. Lamarre?”

“Yep. I’ve just emailed them to you.”

“Of course you did,” he chuckled. “I should know better.”

“You should...and yet…” she trailed off cheekily as she stood and carried her tea past him, heading toward her office. 

* * *

“Ilsa?” he called as he hung his coat on the rack in the entrance hall at the Herbert’s that evening. 

“In the garden Corm,” was her response. “Bring us a glass of wine, yeah?”

He walked through the sitting room to see her crouched next to one of the big potted plants she’d planted a few weekends before. Her gardening gloves were coated in soil and her hair was hidden under a floppy brimmed hat. But he could see that her shoulders were relaxed and her smile was soft and gentle as she fiddled with the plant in front of her. 

He turned to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer for himself and the open bottle of white wine in the rack of the door, and, after popping the top on his beer and taking a healthy swig, he reached down what he knew was her favorite wine glass and poured her a generous glass.

As he put the wine back in the fridge, he found some green grapes and white cheese, left over from one of the charcuterie boards she was fond of making for him and Nick while they waited for dinner to finish, and arranged them on a plate. He balanced the plate on top of the wine glass and picked up his beer and headed out the sliding door to the patio table next to Ilsa’s garden. 

“Oooh!” Ilsa exclaimed when she saw the cheese and grapes as he settled into a chair. “Cheers, Corm.” She bent to kiss his cheek as she passed him, picking up her glass as she did so. 

She sat back in her chair, lounging and relaxed, took a large sip of her wine, and simply watched him with her clear blue eyes. Her head tilted slightly to the side, questioning without words. 

“Yeah...Yeah...Give me a minute,” he stalled, not quite ready to unburden himself yet. 

“Take your time,” she smiled as she bit a plump green grape in half and examined the flesh revealed. “Mmmm. Tart.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “Those are the best kind,” and he reached forward and snagged a cluster for himself. 

“They really are,” she agreed. “So you need to talk about Robin being our surrogate huh?”

His eyes flew to hers immediately, expecting to see frustration and possibly anger, but instead seeing calm acceptance and even a touch of humor. He nodded. 

“And I suppose it doesn’t help that she’s single now as well. Good riddance to David,” she lifted her glass in a cheerful toast. 

“And that I’m single now too,” he mumbled around the cube of cheese he’d just popped into his mouth.

Ilsa sat up straight from her lounging sprawl, “You are?! Since when?”

“Since Julie informed me last night that I have feelings for Robin and advised me to pursue her.”

Ilsa snorted a laugh at the disgruntled expression on his face, “I knew I liked her. Smart girl. Was she upset?”

“On the contrary, I think it’s the easiest breakup I’ve ever had,” and it still baffled him that there’d been no tears or accusations of cheating. “She didn’t even slap me, Ils.”

“Hmmm. That is odd,” she agreed with a chuckle. “What exactly happened?” She reached for another grape, even as she lifted her glass for another sip.

“Well, she asked me about my feelings on Robin being your surrogate and then told me that she thought I should pursue her,” he shrugged. “Apparently my ‘feelings’ for her are visible.”

“They are,” Ilsa nodded.

“Ah fuck. Do you think Robin knows?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Julie said she didn’t think so either. But how can she not know if you and Julie and every bloody other person who knows us can see it?”

“Because she’s blinded by her own feelings for you,” she shrugged again, as though it was obvious. “I’ve never met two people so determined to not be together, even though everyone who knows them can tell they’d be perfect.”

“Yeah well…” he trailed off, knowing his history would speak for itself. He’d never been incredibly lucky in relationships, his longest, outside of Charlotte, having been Tracy, which had ended because she’d wanted to get married and have children, and he hadn’t. 

“Well, now that you’re both single, maybe make a go at it, Corm. She’s pretty much made for you.”

“Yes, but, she’s going to be pregnant soon, isn’t she?” he asked, looking away and taking a swig of his beer. 

“That’s the hope,” Ilsa chirped. “Is that an issue for you?”

“I don’t want it to be. But I can’t stop feeling like it is.”

Ilsa sat back, glass cradled in her hand, waiting for him to go on.

“It doesn’t seem odd to you? A man coming on to a pregnant woman? Dating her? Having sex with her?”

“So you admit you want to have the sex with Robin?” Ilsa twinkled.

“Why do you call it...Of course I want to have sex with her. She’s an incredibly sexy woman,” he said, shaking his head in consternation. “But it seems wrong if she’s pregnant.”

“She’s not pregnant yet.”

“No. But she will be, and it’s not fair of me to take advantage.”

“First; it’s not guaranteed that she’ll get pregnant, she’s just volunteering to try and we’re all hoping it works. Second; it’s not taking advantage, Corm. You love her.”

“I didn’t say that,” he protested.

“You don’t have to. It’s there. On your face. If you didn’t love her, you wouldn’t be so worried about this. You’d make a move, have the sex, and manage the consequences,” she ticked off on her fingers. “You know I’m right. Robin _matters_ to you.”

“Of course she does Ils. She’s my best mate.”

“Well here’s me trying not to be offended,” she put a hand to her chest in feigned offense. 

“Piss off. You know what I mean.”

“I do. She’s the one person in this world who understands you completely.”

He nodded miserably.

“It’s not weird, Cormoran. It’s not inappropriate. It’s not creepy.”

He leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands with a groan. “Why does it feel like it is?”

“Because you’re afraid of taking advantage. But, Corm, she’s going to need someone to help her, to be there for her, to listen when she needs to vent about the morning sickness or the uncomfortableness, or to hold her hand when she feels emotional.”

“Well, you…”

“No. Surely you know Robin well enough to know she’d never let me know if she was uncomfortable. She wouldn’t want me to feel guilty,” Ilsa smiled wistfully. “Nor would she want to make me uncomfortable.”

He nodded grudgingly. 

“So she’s going to need you if this works. Whether as best mate, lover, partner, whatever. She’s going to need you. Can you handle this?”

He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the sky.

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“Take some time and think about it, Corm,” Ilsa patted his knee as she stood and gathered up the plate and her wine glass. “She’s not going anywhere. You’ve got time.”

And she walked inside, leaving him there in the garden, still no closer to understanding how he wanted to proceed.


	10. More Alive Than Dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always...many many thanks to my dearest @pools_of_venetianblue and @mcclinds for being my support system and first readers. 
> 
> I also need to thank @foreverhalffull for her enthusiasm and adoration for this piece of fiction. If no one else liked it. I'd still write it for you. 😘
> 
> Today's chapter didn't actually have a song attached to it...But I think this [one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KuZFjNjyFFM) works well for the mood I want. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.

_ Put your arms around something breathing  
I am here with you _

Robin breezed into the office, carrying cups of coffee she set down on the empty receptionists desk as she divested herself of her coat and scarf. “Morning!” she chirped.

“Morning,” he answered back, walking out from his office and reaching for the coffee cups. “Which of these is mine?”

“This one,” her fingers brushing his as she removed the cup from the carrier, and passed it to him. 

“Ah. Any updates on Pram Pusher?” he asked, as he lifted the cup to his mouth for a sip and followed her into her office, where she deposited her handbag and phone on her desk.

“Well, I got some shots of her meeting a guy in the park while walking with the baby, but I couldn’t get close enough to hear what was being said.”

“He look familiar?”

“No. Haven’t seen him before.”

“Hmm. Want to put Barclay on it? See if he can follow the guy if he shows up again? Or maybe chat Pram up?”

“Maybe. That could work,” she said distractedly, before taking a shuddering breath, just as they heard the door to the front office open, admitting Barclay and Hutchins, who’d come to have a quick touch base about the week's rota, laughing uproariously about something. 

“You feeling OK?” Strike asked as he stood. 

She nodded hastily, “Yeah. I’ll be out in a minute,” and she turned her back to him, facing her desk, as her stomach roiled suddenly. 

As she heard his footsteps receding, heading toward the front office, the laughter faded, replaced by greetings and small talk.

She took another deep breath, followed by a sip of her coffee, that she’d hoped would settle her stomach, as she heard, “Ellacott’ll be out in a mo’. Just checking on something.”

“Right-o,” said Hutchins. “Tea, Sam?”

She didn’t hear Sam’s response over the sound of her pulse rushing in her ears. 

The nausea began to swirl nastily in her stomach, as her head swam in a sudden fog of dizziness. She stumbled toward the front office, hand covering her mouth, rushing past three surprised faces and into the unisex loo, slamming the door shut before falling to her knees in front of the toilet just as her stomach heaved, quickly expelling the small bit of coffee she’d drunk this morning, into the bowl. 

The burn of stomach acid in her throat made her eyes water and she tried to gasp in air, managing only a rasping, horrible wheeze, reminiscent of the hyperventilation she’d experienced during panic attacks before. 

Just as she was opening her eyes, still gasping, but trying to orient herself enough to calm down, the door eased open.

“Ellacott? Are you OK?” Cormoran was on the other side. He’d cracked the door but kept his head turned away so he couldn’t see her in the mirror. 

She felt her head fall to the side, coming to a rest against the wall as she was still kneeling in front of the toilet. 

Still unable to get a full breath, she rasped, “Fine.”

“You decent?” came the reply.

“Mmm. Hmm,” she managed, and she opened her eyes as Cormoran stepped around the door and closed it behind him. 

The space felt suddenly reduced by half, so big he seemed in the tiny room. 

He quickly snatched some paper towels from the holder and turned on the tap, wetting a few before handing them down to her, saying kindly, “Put these on the back of your neck.”

She did as he directed, closing her eyes and taking her first full breath since entering the room. 

“I’m...s..sor,” she stammered.

“Don’t,” he stopped her. “I imagine you couldn’t help it. My mum’s morning sickness was terrible, with both Lucy and…” he trailed off. “Have you told Ilsa yet?” 

She sighed, and reached for the grab bar just above her head, struggling to get to her feet. He stepped over and lifted her gently with an arm around her waist and the other grasping her arm. 

“I was planning to tonight, at dinner,” she answered. “I have to stop at the clinic this afternoon and let them confirm it though.”

“What time?”

“Around five. I was going to go round to theirs straight after.” She glanced in the mirror, using the still damp paper towels to wipe her lips, before running the tap, cupping some water, and spitting it into the sick, grimacing at the nasty taste remaining. 

“Right,” he began. “If you’re feeling better...”

“I am,” she interjected, receiving an eyebrow lift in silent reproof. 

“I’ve sent the guys back to my office, so, if you want, you could dash out to your own and get your kit, freshen yourself up a bit.”

She winced and glanced in the mirror, seeing mascara beginning to run from the tears she’d been unable to stop. 

She felt the sting of tears at the back of her eyes again, at his, not unexpected, kindness. “Thanks Cormoran.”

He waved her off. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be in my office and I’ll make your excuses,” he said, as he opened the door. “I’m going to go ahead and put Barclay on Pram today. Are the pictures you got on your phone or the camera?”

“Um, phone. It’s on my desk. Passcode’s…”

“2903,” he chuckled. “Go on. I’ll find the pics and show them to Barclay. If he has any questions I’ll have him text you.”

She waited until she heard the door to his office close behind him, before making her way to her office. She retrieved her “kit” as he’d called it, a small bag she kept in her office, filled with toiletries and spare clothes, just in case she needed to change her makeup or outfit for surveillance, and quickly dashed back to the loo. This time she locked the door behind her. 

She quickly brushed her teeth with her travel toothbrush and rinsed her mouth, before running her fingers through her hair, twisting it back into a knot at the back of her head. She then pulled a makeup wipe from her small packet and gently ran it under her eyes to remove the mascara that had dried into black streaks. 

She stood a few moments longer, looking in the mirror at her puffy eyes and slightly swollen lips. 

She’d known this was a possibility. 

She just hadn’t realized it would happen this soon. 

The procedure had been three weeks ago, after a bevy of medications, supplements and sonograms. 

She was realizing now that she hadn’t truly believed it would take on the first try. 

Even though she was just over a week late, it still hadn’t seemed real, not without a blood test to confirm it. 

It was strange to realize she was more than likely pregnant. 

Her hands slid to cup her still flat stomach over the waistband of her skirt. 

She didn’t feel terribly different. Especially now that the nausea had passed. 

She’d thought she’d feel...something.

But so far, aside from the morning sickness, she felt no different than she had before they’d completed the transfer of Ilsa's embryos. 

Unless one counted embarrassment.

She had  _ not _ planned for Strike to find her on the floor of the loo, heaving and wheezing and barely able to breathe. 

Nor to have to dash madly for the loo in front of their subcontractors.

And while she knew Strike would never divulge what had caused her mad dash, she couldn’t help but wonder what he was telling them. 

She sighed, turning away from the mirror and packing everything away in the bag. 

She’d hoped to be able to tell him at the same time she told the Herberts. 

She’d hoped he’d be pleased. 

And while he’d been kind, he hadn’t congratulated her. 

He hadn’t acknowledged it at all, aside from the comment about his mother and asking if she’d told the Herberts yet. 

She knew she shouldn’t feel disappointed. 

It wasn’t his baby after all. 

She squared her shoulders. 

In the scheme of things, it was nothing to do with him at all. 

But as she walked back to her office, kit bag slung over her shoulder, she couldn’t help but feel a bit dejected. 

Why hadn’t he seemed happy?

* * *

After Barclay and Hutchins had left, with their altered schedules for the day, Strike sat in his office, brooding over this turn of events.

Robin was almost certainly pregnant and, apparently, feeling the effects already. 

It had been difficult to see her huddled on the floor, skin paler than usual, face dotted with sweat, clearly uncomfortable, not only with what had just happened to her, but also with him seeing her that way. 

He’d hated forcing his way in, but he’d had to be sure she wasn’t actually ill. In the entire time he’d known her, he’d never known her to come down with anything but the slightest head cold. Seeing her dash to the loo, hand covering her mouth, had been shocking. 

He’d done his best to cover for her with the men. Both of whom were married, both of whom had children. He’d thought he’d seen a flicker of suspicion in Barclay’s eyes. But he’d belayed that suspicion by explaining that she was sure she had a stomach bug, and was planning to go home, as soon as they left for their surveillance so that she could avoid exposing them to a potentially contagious bug. 

But he knew that they were going to have to explain the situation soon. 

There was no hiding the changes Robin’s body was about to undergo. 

And he knew, because it was Robin, that she wasn’t going to be happy with the loss of privacy. 

He swung to his laptop and pulled up his schedule for the day, he had one meeting left on his calendar, at three to hand over the results of their investigation. He’d handed off everything else, splitting it between Hutchins and Barclay. 

Seeing Robin on the floor, miserable and uncomfortable, had reminded him inescapably of his mother at the beginning of her pregnancy with the younger brother he’d only seen a handful of times before Leda had died and he’d been given into the care of his paternal grandparents. She’d had morning sickness at all hours for the first two months, and nothing had helped. 

Clicking on his internet browser he performed a quick Google search for morning sickness remedies and began making a list. 

Ginger, apparently, was a good remedy. So he wrote down, “ _ Ginger ale, ginger tea, _ ” and then Preggie Pops, which were some sort of lolly, which was followed by Jell-O, flavored ice lollies, pretzels and lemons. 

He added on HobNobs and shortbread biscuits as well, remembering Leda nibbling them occasionally with her tea. 

He glanced up as he heard her footsteps nearing his door, catching her eye just as she leaned against his doorway, her hands folded together in front of her. 

“Feeling better?” he asked. 

“Just,” she nodded. “What did you tell the guys?”

“For now, I just told them you may have a stomach bug and to stay away from the office for the day, in case it’s contagious.”

“Clever,” she chuckled.

“I try,” he tilted his head at her as she came in and sat down in one of the chairs in front of his desk. 

He’d left the furniture choices for the offices up to her when they’d moved, but he had to admit, he rather liked what she’d chosen for his office. His desk was suitably large, with many drawers, all capable of being locked. His desk chair was wide and cushioned, and allowed him to lean all the way back, which he liked to do while letting information for a case he was working marinate. But the best feature of this chair was that it had an attached footrest that he could pull up, like a recliner, allowing him to take pressure off his leg when it was bothering him.

Her choices shouldn’t have surprised him, she was a natural caretaker after all, but he’d been touched when he’d discovered the items she’d chosen for him, mindful of his size and disability, and his tendency to spend more time in his office than at home. 

He contemplated her as she sat in front of him, hands still clasped together, resting in her lap, her head turned toward the window she’d placed a small vining plant in. “Something else on your mind?” he asked. 

“Is this going to be an issue for you?” she asked, still looking away. 

“ _ This _ meaning, your pregnancy?”

“Yes,” she turned to face him. “Is it going to be a problem for you?”

“Professionally?” he asked, going on when she nodded. “No. We’ll need to figure out how to explain it to the guys. Surrogacy is a fairly rare thing still. But they’re both husbands and fathers,” he shrugged. “I think they’ll understand and likely think even better of you than they do now,” he grinned at her. “If that’s even possible.”

She chuckled, as he’d meant her to. 

“And personally?” she asked, softly. “Is it an issue for you personally?” Again, she looked away. This time down at her hands, that were now twisting slightly in her lap. 

“Should it?” he responded, equally as quiet. Carefully. 

“I don’t know. It’s just…” she trailed off. 

Took a deep breath.

“It’s just that...well…” she shook her head in frustration, “To be honest, it doesn’t seem as though you’re happy about it.”

“And I should be?” He knew he should be. He knew, even as he asked it, that this was the wrong thing to have said. 

Her head snapped up, eyes pinning him, the gray taking over the blue like a storm. 

“Yes,” she snapped. “You damn well should. Nick and Ilsa have been trying for  _ years _ to have a child.”

“I know that. Remember? Ilsa was my best mate,” he kept his voice level, but inside he winced as he realized what he’d just said. 

“Was?” she pounced on it.

“Yes,” he shoved himself up from his desk, patting his chest, looking for his pack of fags. “Was.” He located them in his hip pocket, pulled one out, and lit it, blew the exhale away from her. 

“She’s not your best mate anymore? Because I’m her surrogate?” Robin jumped to her feet, bracing her hands on his desk. 

He paced away from her, to the window, which he opened, then braced a hand against, his back still turned to her. Unable to turn around, fearful that she’d see the feelings he wasn’t ready to share, clearly. 

“Strike!” she snapped, determined to get an answer. 

“It’s nothing to do with the surrogacy Ellacott,” he tossed the half smoked cigarette out the window and turned to face her. “She’s not my best mate anymore…” he paused, heaved a sigh, “Because  _ you _ are.”

She reeled back in shock, “I’m sorry. What...did you just say?”

He stepped slightly nearer, sliding his hands into his pockets,  _ to prevent himself from reaching for her? _

“Ellacott, there is no one else in this world who knows the things you know about me. About the way things ended with Charlotte. About my leg, and this business, and how hard I’ve struggled,” he kept his eyes on hers and bit the bullet. “You’re the only reason we’re where we are now. In this new office, with clients on waiting lists and almost too busy for the five of us to handle things. But, you,” he nodded. “You’re my best mate. The person I trust, above anyone else.”

Her eyes were shining again, rain gathering in the storm clouds.

“I  _ am _ happy, for Ilsa and Nick,” he said. “And for you,” he inhaled sharply, let it out on a long sigh, “But I can’t deny being worried about you, about them. About this situation. About how it’s going to affect you, me, the business,” he raised a hand, stopping the words she’d opened her mouth to say. “I’m worried, but I’m proud of you, and I support you,” he reached out for her hand and tugged her to him, wrapping her in his arms, in a gentle hug. “How could I not? You’re my best mate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to add a note here...According to the research I did, I changed the process for how Robin would discover the embryo transfer had worked. I did this because I wanted the drama...and well...For plot. Below you'll find the actual information I found, quoted, from [www.surrogate.com](https://surrogate.com/surrogates/pregnancy-and-health/medical-process-for-a-surrogate/)
> 
> _"Finding out if you're pregnant_  
>  Once the embryos have been transferred into the womb, you'll be advised to wait around 2 weeks before having a pregnancy test to see if the treatment has worked.
> 
> _Some clinics may suggest carrying out a normal urine pregnancy test at home and letting them know the result, while others may want you to come into the clinic for a more accurate blood test._
> 
> _This 2-week wait can be a very difficult period because of the anxiety of not knowing whether the treatment has worked. Some people find it the hardest part of the treatment process."_
> 
> It has also been pointed out to me by a very helpful reader that I am using some incorrect terminology...So, if you reread, you may notice a few changes to terms, this was done to try, as best I could, to reflect the reality of the IVF/Surrogacy process. 
> 
> I think that's it for now. Thank you all so much for your support and love for this fic. It means a ton.


	11. SOS (Overboard)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiii! 
> 
> I'm posting an update because I'm excited that it's almost NaNoWriMo and I'm hoping to finish Good Luck, Kid for that project. 🤞🏻 And hopefully any of the lovely comments will help propel me toward that goal. 
> 
> Massive thanks to my dearest @mcclinds and @pools_of_venetianblue, who always keep me on track and help me work out plot issues. I don't know what I'd do without you guys. 
> 
> This chapter's song can be found [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVPZADVYqdI).

_ I know I want you but I'm drowning in fear _

“You’re mine as well you know,” she whispered against his shirt. “I’d have nothing if it wasn’t for you.” 

And she meant it. She’d realized he was her closest friend when she’d left Matthew the first time. Had thought about it, sitting in the room Cormoran had secured for her at Hazlitt’s. 

Cormoran had been the only friend she had in London at the time. 

And he was the only person, besides her family and Matthew, to know all of the details of her assault and what the aftermath had been. How long it had taken to recover. 

He was the only person to know, even now, how it still affected her. 

The panic attacks, the dreams, her extreme dislike of having anyone come up behind her. 

The truth was, his reaction to the truth of her assault had endeared him to her more than anyone since. He hadn’t looked at her and seen a victim. He’d seen the person beneath the trauma, beneath the facade she’d built. He hadn’t expected her to be weak and malleable. He hadn’t treated her like she was fragile. He’d taken the information, acknowledged that it was a horrible thing to have happened to her, and then treated her the way he always had. 

And she’d waited. 

She’d waited for him to find ways to keep her in the office more, to try to wrap her in bubble wrap, the way her mother did, the way Matthew had. 

And for a time she’d thought he was doing just that. 

When Donald Laing had been stalking her, and sending them body parts in the post, and cutting up women all over London. When he’d attacked her and left her with a purple scar down her right arm. 

When he’d fired her, for being reckless, with not only their case, but herself.

But after, when she’d come back to work with him, instead of for him, he’d trusted her to handle herself. To do what needed to be done.

And in the aftermath of Matthew’s second betrayal, he’d been frank with her about her safety and mental health, and then he had trusted her to hold up her end of the partnership.

He’d been a better friend to her than any of the other people she’d ever considered friends before. 

So feeling as though he was upset with her for volunteering to be the Herbert's’ surrogate had been difficult for her. 

Doubly so when he was the only one in her life she really felt that she could talk to about it. 

“I don’t know about that, Ellacott. I’m fairly sure you’d be working for The Met now if Temporary Solutions hadn’t ballsed up sending you to me and the agency,” he laughed, squeezing her tight for a moment, before pulling back. 

He started patting his pockets again, as though looking for his box of cigarettes. “You left them on your desk,” she sniffled, just as he pulled a tissue from his inside coat pocket and handed it to her. 

“Should I start carrying handkerchiefs do you think?” he asked, as she dabbed her eyes and quietly blew her nose. 

“Couldn’t hurt. Especially if they confirm I really am pregnant today.”

“God, Mum was a wreck when she was pregnant,” he started, before trailing off. 

“Mine too,” she jumped in. “When she was pregnant with Jonathan she was either crying or eating McVities in the kitchen.”

“Those were her craving?” he asked with a chuckle. 

“Yeah. She went through packets. Dad teased her about buying them by the truckload,” she gave a wet snort of laughter. “I wonder what mine’ll be.”

“Your cravings?”

“Yeah.”

“Hopefully something less prosaic than the traditional ‘pickles and ice cream’.”

“You know, I’ve never known an actual pregnant woman to crave that,” she said, furrowing her brow in confusion. 

“Do you want me to come with you today?”

“I’m sorry?” Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly.

“I’m done with my meetings around four, and I was going to just head back home and cook up a curry for us. But if you want company, or don’t want…” he swallowed. “To go alone, I could go with you.” He looked away, uncomfortably. “Support and all.”

“Really?” she was incredulous. “You want to go with me to my doctor’s appointment to find out if I’m pregnant?”

“Well…’want to’ is a bit strong. But if you want me to,” his dark eyes met hers. “I will.”

She knew she should let him off the hook, tell him no thanks, and let it go. It had been kind of him to offer and she appreciated it.

But she heard herself say, “Yes,” firmly and purposefully. “I think I would.”

He nodded and reached for his paper coffee cup, picking it up and finding it empty. “You, just…”

“I’ll go make tea, shall I? And I’ll come find you when we need to...go.”

“Yes. Right. OK.”

She nodded and left him to his work. 

She stopped into their small break room and set the kettle to boil, preparing two mugs, with tea bags and a spoon, pulled down a small paper plate and loaded it with a handful of biscuits, just as the kettle boiled.

She poured the water and then leaned back against the wall to wait for it to steep and thought over his offer to accompany her to the doctor’s office. 

She hadn’t expected that.

Nor had she expected to hear him declare that she was his best mate, especially knowing how close he was to the Herbert's, and his lifelong friend Dave Polworth. 

But she couldn’t deny that his admission had warmed her considerably. 

He was the one person she wanted to talk to above anyone else most days. When she had news, Cormoran was the first she wanted to share it with. She found herself reaching for her phone to text or call him most evenings, when they weren’t already together.

She’d lost count of the number of times she’d texted him after office hours, to share information she’d found while working at home over a dinner of pasta or a cheese toasty, and ended up spending hours in conversation with him. 

And that didn’t count the number of times he’d done the same, either calling or texting after work to give her an update on surveillance he was doing, or to check in with her on a stakeout she might be in the middle of. 

Maybe, if she got through this pregnancy as easily as she hoped, they could finally figure out what they could be together.

Of course, he was dating Julie still. 

But forty weeks was a long time. 

She squeezed his tea bag and added sugar to his liking, then carried the plate of biscuits and mug of tea into his office. Setting it down on his desk and turning to leave, before turning back at the door.

“You are though.”

He glanced back at her, over his shoulder, “Hmm.” His eyes were hazy with remnants of whatever he’d been researching.

“My best mate, I mean.”

“Oh,” he nodded and lifted his tea for a sip. “Ditto.”

****

Hours later, after many meetings and phone conversations, a small lunch of chicken soup and crackers, and more emails than she could count, she found herself knocking on his door jamb and leaning against it while he finished up a phone consult.

He held up a finger to indicate he was wrapping up and she nodded, smiling fondly as he turned back to his computer screen, “Yes. I can do that. Or if I can’t, one of our team will,” he was saying.

She took the rare opportunity to watch him when he was unaware.

He cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear as he scribbled notes with the silver pen she’d given him for his birthday this past year. 

She could just see his profile, rugged and careworn, his nose crooked from being broken a few times. 

She’d never noticed before, but he had long lashes for a man. And his brows, while heavy, weren’t threatening. Or, they’d never been toward her. 

She’d only ever seen him truly mad once. 

He really was, in an interesting way, arrestingly attractive. 

He wasn’t gorgeous.

He wasn’t pretty. 

She didn’t even think she could say handsome. 

But arresting...that seemed to fit well. 

When she’d first met him he’d seemed just shy of bearlike. His size, his hairiness, and his perpetually surly face had seemed uninviting. 

But as she’d gotten to know him, learned his expressions and his mannerisms, seen his different smiles and grins, and the way his eyes would soften or twinkle when teasing her or Ilsa, she’d slowly come to realize that character, instead of looks, was what she found attractive about him. 

The content of his character was incredible. 

He was focused and tenacious, especially about their cases. His mind was labyrinthian and subtly quixotic. There were times, especially in the beginning of their partnership, when she’d been baffled by the way he was able to sort through their clues and find the solution. It seemed almost to be the work of a magician at times, the way he could connect Dot A to Dot Q and somehow get Dot Z. 

Outside of work, with friends, he was genial and quick to laugh, joke, or take the mickey. He loved food and drink and could rarely be found without something or the other in his pockets to snack on, most often a Twix bar, but occasionally a Kit Kat or bag of crisps. 

He was often late to social gatherings, and was definitely guilty of putting work before anything else, but she could hardly complain when she was similarly wired. 

The puzzle was what drove both of them. 

Their drive to solve it is what made them such a well matched team. 

“Ready to go?” he asked, as he stood and gathered his keys, cigarettes, and phone, shoving them into his pockets as he walked toward her. 

She smiled a rueful smile at him as she walked past him, to his desk, and picked up the mug he’d left with the dregs of the tea he’d made them that afternoon in it. 

“Sorry. I’d have gotten it tomorrow.” Standing there, in his doorway, hand on the back of his head, ruffling his hair, he looked like a scolded boy and she wondered how that could be. 

“I know,” she said, as he stepped out of her way. “But I’ll set it with mine in the sink and then they’ll be together to clean in the morning.”

He walked to the door, taking his greatcoat from the pegs beside it and pulling it on before taking her jacket from her arms and holding it for her. 

This was another of his more gentlemanly habits. He’d always behaved in this courteous fashion with her. Never touching her without cause. He was always careful with her space and though he’d become more physically affectionate with her in the past year or so, following the example she’d begun setting when they’d begun spending more time together after she’d moved into Nick and Ilsa’s spare room, he rarely instigated the physicality, aside from moments like this. 

For all his size, bulk, and appearance, he was the only man outside of her family, that she felt completely at ease around. Nick and Thomas were just as trustworthy, but she counted them as family now. 

Cormoran was not family. 

Nor did she want him to be. 

She didn’t quite know what Cormoran was, but she knew that the feelings she had for him, complicated though they may be, were not feelings one should have for a member of their family, or a friend that was close enough to be considered as such. 

“Thanks,” she said, automatically as she slipped her arms into the jacket and flipped her hair out of the collar, before taking her handbag from the peg and slinging it across her chest. “I’m a little nervous,” she admitted. 

“I can understand that,” he granted, as he locked the office door behind them and they walked toward the lift. “It’s not everyday you find out you're pregnant with another couple’s child.”

She chuckled, as she knew he’d meant her to. “No. It’s really not.”

“Any ideas on how you’re going to tell them?”

“Well...I was hoping they’d do a scan, and then I could give it to them.”

“And if they don’t?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet. I’ll think of something,” she mused. 

“Never thought I’d see the day when Robin Venetia Ellacott was unprepared,” he glanced around as they exited the building. “It doesn’t look as though the world is ending.”

She slapped him playfully with the back of her hand, “Sod off. I said I’ll think of something.”

“I’ll try to think of something too.”

“No we can’t just give them flowers, Strike,” she said drolly. 

He stopped in his tracks, putting a hand to his chest. “I am offended that you would even suggest it.”

She snickered and shook her head, “It’s your immediate go to. Every time.”

“Because most women like flowers,” he shrugged as he tugged his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and struck a match. “Do you know what they’ll do to confirm it?” he asked after a couple inhalations. 

“I’m guessing a blood or urine test.”

“Well, do you want me to stay with you? Or…” he trailed off.

She chuckled, “No. You don’t have to stay with me. I mean, it’s just a confirmation. Nothing invasive.”

“Invasive? Things are invasive?” he sounded shocked. 

“I have a human being growing in my stomach, Cormoran,” she laughed. “It doesn’t get much more invasive than that.”

“Right, but,” he started, his brows cranking down in confusion. 

“As I understand it, they’ll start checking certain things as I progress. Nothing painful though. Just things I’d ordinarily experience at a yearly exam.”

“Ah. I see,” he said, as he finished his cigarette and ground it out against the side of the entrance to the Tube station, before tossing the butt in a bin. 

They descended the stairs into the station and waited only a moment for the next train. It was predictably crowded, so she grabbed one of the hanging handles while Cormoran stood next to her, his elbow wrapped around one of the poles. 

“What’ll you do while I get this done?” she asked. 

“No idea,” he answered baldly.

She laughed, “Why’d you offer to come?”

“Seemed like the thing to do?” he shrugged, his arm nudging her shoulder as he did so. “Seemed like the type of thing you should have someone with you when you find out.”

“I guess so.”

A few moments later, they were walking up the steps to the Holloway Road Station. 

Robin checked her watch, “I’m a few minutes early.”

“Want me to come in with you?” he asked quietly.

She hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t been prepared for him to be this supportive. But she was grateful. Standing outside the door to the clinic she realized that she hadn’t expected this to be such a momentous occasion, and she’d underestimated her ability to handle it on her own. It was good to have moral support, even if the man didn’t understand a thing about pregnancy. 

She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear, with a rueful smile. 

And with a firm nod, he tugged open the door, holding it for her, and then entering behind her. 

  
  



	12. Lifted Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is such a fun one. I had a delightful time writing it and remembering the way these moments felt in my life. 
> 
> The song felt perfect for this chapter. It's like a march, and a declaration, and happiness...And it was like Robin saying these things to herself and Ilsa and Cormoran saying them to Robin. Perfection. 
> 
> And this is [Lifted Away](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mfsZzOSCGlQ).

_ Give me the rope that is tied around your neck  
I'll cut it away  
I'll set you free as you should be  
Longer must we live under these burdens  
Your my beloved, my kin, no more a slave _

“Good afternoon.” They were greeted by a middle aged woman wearing bright pink scrubs. “Here for an appointment?”

“I am,” Robin said. “He’s just here for support.”

“Always a good thing to have support,” the receptionist smiled kindly at Cormoran before tapping a clipboard on the counter. “If you’ll just sign in there, I’ll get you back as soon as I can.”

Robin filled out her name and appointment time on the clipboard and then, with a sigh, turned to Cormoran, who indicated a row of chairs against the wall opposite. 

The soothing, dark blue walls of the waiting room were lined with abstract paintings. As s Robin looked at them, she realized they were abstract representations of the female reproductive organs. 

She felt herself blushing and glanced sideways at Cormoran, trying to ascertain if he’d noticed. Luckily, just as she glanced at him a door opened on the right hand side of the room and a different woman, this time in teal scrubs with teddy bears printed on them, called, “Ellacott?”

She got to her feet and said, “That’s me.”

Cormoran got to his feet as well, “Well, I guess…” he began.

“You can both come with me,” the nurse said in a no nonsense tone, holding the door open.

Robin turned back to Cormoran, “You don’t…” then back to the nurse, “He’s not…”

But Cormoran reached out and took her hand, squeezed it reassuringly, “It’s okay,” he chuckled, then he turned to the nurse, “I’m not her husband. Just a friend.”

“Oh. Well then. Obviously you don’t have to come back,” the nurse laughed before looking at Robin. “We’re just going to get your weight and a sample for testing.”

“Oh. Okay.” And she smiled back over her shoulder at Cormoran, who motioned to the exit and patted his pocket. “See you in a mo’ I guess.” And she followed the nurse through the door. 

Once in the back, she was guided to a scale, where her weight was recorded, before being handed a urine sample cup and pointed in the direction of the loo. 

Ten minutes later she was sitting in the waiting room again, her phone in her hand and a text to Cormoran pulled up, just as he stepped through the door.

“Finished already?” he asked with a grin. 

“Well, kind of.”

“What’s up?” he asked quietly. “Was it negative?”

“No. No,” she laughed. “It was positive.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well, congratulations!” And he leaned in to hug her. 

“They want to do a scan,” she said, “an ultrasound.”

“Oh. that’s what you’d hoped, right?”

“It is. But now I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have invited Nick and Ilsa along,” she tilted her head. “It’s their child and they should get to see the first moments, shouldn’t they?”

When the nurse had confirmed her pregnancy and told her that they’d want to get a quick scan to make sure everything looked as it should, she’d been overcome with this feeling that she was taking away a moment that her friends should have been allowed to experience. 

“Well, would they let us record it do you think?” Cormoran asked, unexpectedly. 

“Us?”

“I mean, you wouldn’t be undressed or anything right?”

“No. Not at all. Well,” she qualified. “I’d have my shirt up over my stomach. But not fully undressed.”

“Okay. Then why don’t you go ask if they’ll let us record it. And I’ll come back with you and record the whole thing. Then, we can show them the video at dinner.” He grinned. “That OK?”

She felt herself tearing up. Sometimes, when she least expected it he managed to surprise the hell out of her. 

“Absolutely,” she gave a watery laugh. “They’ll love it.”

And she walked toward the receptionist to ask if it was possible. 

Three minutes later, they were ushered into a small, dark room, hardly bigger than a closet, by a third woman, who introduced herself as Randi and explained that she would be performing the ultrasound for them. 

She directed Robin to sit on an elevated table, beside which were two chairs on the right, and on the left, a machine with different wands and probes jutting out, below a wide computer monitor. 

“Right, if you’ll just take a seat,” Randi smiled at Cormoran, who lowered his frame into the chair closest to the table. “And you,” she said to Robin. “I’ll need you to lay back on the table and unbutton your slacks and shirt to right below your bra.” 

Suddenly Cormoran was unsure where to look. The room was so small that his choices were, at Robin, which was definitely not happening, at Randi, which seemed a little weird, at the ceiling, which made him feel it would be obvious he was trying to not ogle his partner. There were no good choices. Until he remembered that he had a camera that he’d shoved in his pocket, in anticipation of the stakeout he was scheduled to do in the morning. He was thankful, for myriad reasons, that he’d been prepared.

The camera  _ did  _ need to be sorted, after all. 

He pulled the camera from his coat pocket and bent his head as far over it as he could, turned it on, and started pressing buttons, pretending to adjust settings, and hoping one of the women would indicate when it was safe for him to look back up before he accidentally changed a setting he wouldn’t be able to fix, resulting in the video he was about to attempt to make being bright teal or some other horrible color.

A few moments later, after considerable rustling of clothing and enough shutter speed changes for the camera to be completely confused, had it been a person instead of a camera, he glanced up to find Robin stretched out before him. Her stomach and abdomen were bare, pale, and luminous, and, most disconcerting for him, at  eye level. He tried, frantically, to corral the thought that if he leaned forward just a bit, he would be able to brush a kiss across her soft skin . 

She’d unbuttoned her mulberry colored blouse to just below her bra. There was a hint of white showing under the edges of the blouse that draped off the sides of her body, and belatedly he realized this must be the lace of her bra peeking out. Her trousers had been unbuttoned and a paper sheet had been tucked into them and tugged down to what he suspected was just above her pubic bone. 

Realizing he was staring, he glanced up to find her watching him. He pulled an apologetic face before mouthing, “Sorry,” at her as the technician bustled around her machine. 

Robin just smiled and shook her head, and he saw her stomach twitching a little as she laughed silently. 

He scowled at her and received an eye roll and a shake of her head in return. 

He took refuge in fiddling with the camera again, before he said or did something that would be irreversible. Or before he could give his mind leave to wonder why she would be so comfortable being in this position, almost half naked, with him in the room.  _ Nope. Stop it. You sick fuck,  _ he thought to himself as images of her undoing the last few buttons tried to resolve themselves into a fantasy in his head.

“I was told you were planning to record this, is that correct?” Randi asked, startling his thoughts away from wondering what the skin on Robin’s stomach felt like. Clearing his throat and holding the camera aloft, he said, “Right. I’m ready when you are.”

“Great! Now, Robin, I’m going to put this gel on your abdomen,” she held up a bottle of what looked like sunburn gel. “It helps the wand transmit the sound waves we need to actually see what’s happening inside, by eliminating the air between the wand,” she indicated the end of the probe. “And your skin. It’ll be a little cold, but it’ll warm up quickly.”

Robin nodded and Cormoran took that as his cue to start the recording. He held up the camera and pressed the record button, just as Randi squeezed a dollop of gel on Robin’s abdomen. Robin hissed in a breath before chuckling, “You weren’t kidding,” she glanced up at Cormoran. “It’s cold.” He grinned back at her, turning the camera to show her face as she laughed up at him. Resisted the urge to zoom in on the nose wrinkle she sent him. 

Randi chuckled as she picked up the probe. “Here we go,” she smiled at them both and pressed the probe into the gel, smearing it around a little. He hastily adjusted the camera to capture the screen in front of him.

Almost immediately an image popped onto the screen in front of him and he heard Robin gasp softly. What appeared to be television static in a cone shaped area slowly became a mass of black with a tiny peanut shaped speck in it. 

“This,” Randi tapped the peanut shape, “is the baby.”

“Oh, Cormoran, look,” Robin breathed softly. 

And he felt a bit awed himself. 

Staring at the screen, where a tiny little blob bobbed and floated, completely unaware that it was being watched. He glanced down at Robin’s stomach, where the probe was moving slowly through the gel and then back up to the screen, swallowing past a suspicious lump in his throat. He gripped the camera tighter with his left hand as he felt Robin’s hand brush against his right arm through his sleeve. 

Also feeling a need to moor himself, he slid his hand to hers and squeezed. 

“Look at that, Ellacott,” he said softly. “Look what you did.”

He hoped she hadn’t caught the slight catch in his throat, but when he glanced down at her face, which was turned toward the screen, where their mutual friends’ child floated, seemingly happily, he saw that tears were sliding down the side of her nose. 

He squeezed her hand again, much firmer this time.

“You’re a bloody marvel, you know that?”

***

Thirty minutes later, Robin was buttoned back up and standing on the doorstep outside 80 Octavia Street. They’d stopped at a Tesco on the way, to pick up a connector that would allow Cormoran to connect the camera to the Herbert’s telly or laptop, and Robin had insisted on giving them a card of congratulations with a picture from the scan tucked inside. 

He reached for the door latch and looked down at Robin, who he swore was glowing like neon. Energy was dancing around her frame so bright that he thought for a moment that if he touched her she might electrocute him with her happiness. Her face was lit with joy and wonder and she couldn’t stop bouncing on her heels with excitement. 

“Ready?” he asked.

She grinned, her eyes widening and her lips twisting to the side in a smirk of pure anticipation, and nodded enthusiastically. 

He pushed the door open and called down the hall, “Nick? Ilsa? You home?” as he slid his coat off his shoulders, palming the camera and slipping it into his trouser pocket.

Nick’s voice calling back, “In the kitchen,” floated down the hall as he turned to help Robin with her coat. She hung her handbag with her coat and, with a lightning fast hug for him, that gave him no time to properly hug her back, and a soft squeal of excitement, she headed down the hall, hiding the card behind her back as Nick and Ilsa greeted them.

“Robin! Hi!” Ilsa kissed her cheek. “Were we expecting you?” she asked confusedly. “Not that you’re not always welcome.”

“No. You weren’t,” Robin laughed. “But Cormoran invited me along for dinner tonight. I hope you don’t mind. He said you didn’t have any plans,” Robin explained. 

“Oh, no we don’t,” Ilsa hastened to reassure her. “Right. Did I miss family dinner on the calendar?” she joked with a mock glare at Cormoran.

He grinned mischievously, “Well, Robin and I saw a new movie today and we thought you’d get a kick out of it, so I invited her over for dinner and a movie night? That alright?” he asked, with a covert wink at Robin. 

Nick shrugged and said, “Sure. Right, Ils?”

“Why not? Shall I order Chinese?”

“If that’s what you want,” Robin said, looking to Cormoran and Nick for their opinions. Both shrugged and nodded, already heading toward the door to the sitting room.

Ilsa, who already had her phone to her ear with the Chinese restaurant on the line turned back to them, “The usual?” And receiving shouts of, “yes,” from both men, and a nod from Robin she turned away to complete the order, shooing Robin from the room.

“Which service Oggy?” Nick asked, as he strode into their sitting room with Cormoran. “Netflix? Hulu?”

“No. I have it here,” Cormoran held up his camera and tugged the cable from his pocket, as he stepped to the telly and started the connection. 

Robin, meanwhile, took a seat on the end of the sofa and slid the card she’d, so far successfully, hidden, between the cushion and the arm of the sofa she was leaning against. 

She was nearly vibrating with excitement and as she caught Cormoran’s eye, she nearly giggled hysterically at the shared secret they were about to unveil to their unsuspecting friends. 

“Okay,” Ilsa said as she came through the doorway, carrying a tray with mugs of tea for each of them. “Popcorn is in the microwave and Chinese will be about thirty minutes.” She sat the tray down and turned back to go retrieve the popcorn. 

“Oggy, what are you showing us?” Nick chuckled, as Cormoran leaned back against the wall next to the television, once again fiddling with the camera settings as he stalled, waiting for Ilsa to rejoin them. 

“Trust me. You’re going to love it,” he grinned as Nick passed him a mug of tea. “Isn’t that right, Ellacott?”

Robin, who had just taken a sip from her mug, hastened to nod, “Oh yes. It was utterly engrossing. Though, maybe a bit of a tear jerker, wouldn’t you say?” she directed this last at Cormoran.

“It definitely set you off.”

“Sod off. You were tearing up as well.”

“Fair enough,” he acceded, before calling, “Ilsa! Hurry up!”

Ilsa bustled back into the room, carrying two bowls of popcorn, “Alright. Alright. I’m here.” She plopped down on the sofa next to Robin and pulled a bowl of popcorn into her lap. Nick sank down to the floor, resting his back against the base of the sofa, and leaning against Ilsa’s leg. Robin watched Ilsa’s hand creep down to tickle his ear and nearly teared up again at the thought of what they were about to see and how she knew it was going to affect them.

Her body suddenly felt suffused with a mixture of joy and anticipation, tinged with anxiety and mild fear, but she shook it off, determined to enjoy this moment and the pleasure she knew she’d feel in seeing her friends realize their dreams had come true. 

“Go on, Corm. Get on with it,” Ilsa flapped a hand at Cormoran, who set his mug down and picked up the camera, pressed a few buttons and within moments Robin’s face filled the screen, her laughter and nose wrinkle larger than life, as she giggled at how cold the gel was. He’d panned down her exposed stomach , and then, Randi’s voice was floating through the air. 

He glanced at Robin as she watched Nick and Ilsa tilt their heads curiously, before slowly realizing what they were seeing. 

The screen, with the cone of static dissolving into the peanut shape of their child lit the screen as Ilsa’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“No?” Ilsa gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. 

“Are you?!” Nick gasped, before bounding to his feet in excitement. “Oh my God! Robin?!”

Robin stood and laid a hand on her stomach, “I am,” she grinned, as tears welled and spilled. 

Ilsa screamed and everyone was showered with popcorn as she threw the bowl out of her lap and scrambled up from the couch before nearly tackling Robin in a tearful and clearly joyous hug. 

Cormoran couldn’t help laughing as he watched his dear friends surround his partner, swamping her with hugs and kisses and tears and complete and incandescent happiness. 

On the telly, the baby was bobbing along, and he heard his own voice catching, “Look what you did.” 

His heart leaping with joy and excitement for his friends, whose dream had just begun to come true, twisted slightly with anxiety and fear for his heart, which had already been balancing precariously on a razor's edge between cautious affection and attraction and adoration for Robin. 

He was terrified that those moments in that dark room, with Robin’s hand squeezing his as they’d watched that tiny life floating on a black screen, had tipped him over the edge and into a whole other realm of emotion he wasn’t sure he was willing to put a name to.

He knew these next few months would be difficult for all of them, but most especially for Robin. Her body was going to change. Her freedom, both at work and in her day-to-day life, would be restricted a great deal. And her emotions would be vacillating all over the place, if she was anything like his mother had been when she’d been carrying...

He caught her eye. She was still sandwiched between their tearful friends, who were taking it in turns to pat her still flat stomach and coo at it that they loved the little peanut, but her eyes were on him, and full of something he couldn’t quite define. It seemed to be a mix of affection, laughter and something else. 

He grinned at her, chuckling at her exaggeratedly tolerant expression as she looked at Nick and Ilsa still celebrating and resolved to keep his feelings to himself. 

For now.

She was going to be overwhelmed with emotions during the next few months, and when he finally let her know what he felt for her, he wanted to be sure she wasn’t influenced by hormones, or misplaced gratitude for the support he was giving her, or some biological need for a warm body and strong hands that would pass when the pregnancy was over.

He knew that his offer to go with her today had stemmed from a feeling that she should have someone to share the memory with, someone to smile at, and to squeeze her hand. Someone who would remember those quiet moments in that dark room, when she’d seen proof of the miracle she’d been a part of making happen. 

He’d wanted to be that person. 

As he called out, asking if they wanted to see the rest of the movie, she looked at him and he’d smiled back, realizing that he’d willingly share any memory with this woman, happy, sad, joyful, anguished and anything in between. 

She was the one he wanted to share everything with. 

He just needed to wait a bit longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is also everything I have written for this piece...excepting The Chapter That Started It All...But that one doesn't come for a while. 
> 
> I'm hoping that as NaNoWriMo goes one, I'll be posting more regular updates for you, with the goal of being finished by the end of the month. 🤞🏻


	13. Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heartfelt hugs and songs of praise for my dearest @Pools_of_venetianblue and for the Strike Fam on our Discord server. 
> 
> If you haven't joined the server yet, I cannot suggest it highly enough. It's filled with wonderful discussions, places for writers to participate in writing sprints together and discuss their current works in progress. Not to mention the number of truly lovely and wonderful people who make up the membership. You can join us [here](https://discord.gg/8dwFk2nt). We'd love to have you. ❤
> 
> This chapter is named [Gold ](https://open.spotify.com/track/1Pmy1wRR1blxrZuUKMxvd2?si=yKuVY98YR9yMhGnCSjNaTw). There wasn't a video for it, so I had to link you to Spotify. 
> 
> Hope you don't mind.
> 
> Thanks for reading. 😘

_Be still my ever beating heart  
Don't stop, just hold on _

She hadn’t counted on this being so difficult to explain to her parents. But now, with the phone to her ear, she was realizing she should have. Linda was not taking it well. 

“What do you mean you’re pregnant but the baby isn’t yours?” her mother demanded.

“Exactly that. I am pregnant, with someone else’s child and when it’s born, it will go to live with it’s biological parents,” she struggled to keep the impatience out of her voice. 

“And you’re okay with that?” 

“I am. I’m overjoyed about it,” she smiled remembering how the evening before had gone. 

Cormoran’s eyes laughing across the room into hers while Nick and Ilsa had shouted their excitement at the top of their lungs. 

Hearing the catch in his voice as they’d watched the end of the video. 

_“Look at that, Ellacott. Look what you did,”_ his voice had caught on the ‘that’. She hadn’t registered it while laying on the table staring at the baby and trying to grasp that the tiny little thing floating on that screen was actually inside her. 

Nor had she understood just how much it had affected him. 

She steered her mind carefully away from the thought of how it had felt to lay in that darkened room, his hand in hers, his white teeth flashing as he’d told her what a marvel she was. 

That wasn’t something she needed to be thinking about. 

At least not now. 

Not when he was still seeing Julie and happy with her. 

“Explain it to me one more time, from the beginning,” Linda asked. “I’m just trying to understand. You’re pregnant, but I’m _not_ getting a grandchild.”

“One more time,” Robin sighed. “Nick and Ilsa are the people I stayed with for the month and a half after I left Matt. She’s the one who introduced me to Thomas? Suggested that I move in with him?” she prompted. 

“Oh yes. How is he?” Her mother adored Thomas. 

“He’s doing well. Hoping to come visit soon. Anyway, Ilsa and Nick-”

“Who are Cormoran’s best mates,” Linda interrupted. 

“Right. They’ve been trying for ages to get pregnant but it hasn’t worked for them. And after multiple rounds of IVF they couldn’t try again. So, I stepped up and agreed to be their surrogate.”

“And they asked you to do this?”

“No, Mum. I volunteered. They’re my best mates too, and they were there for me during a really difficult time, no questions asked, even though they barely knew me. So when Ilsa’s last transfer didn’t take, I volunteered to try.”

“And Cormoran is alright with this?” Linda asked, bemused. 

“Mum! Cormoran isn’t my husband, boyfriend, lover or anything other than one of my best mates and my work partner. It’s not his business nor his decision to make.”

Linda huffed out an impatient breath, “Rob, there’s no need to take that tone. I know you aren’t dating him. I meant isn’t this going to affect your work? You can’t be out chasing down suspects when you’re carrying a baby.” 

“No. We discussed it and I’m going to be training our new office manager and doing light surveillance. Nothing dangerous. I’ll handle the insurance cases and such. It’ll be OK really,” she reassured her mother. 

“Okay then. And when is the baby due?” 

“March 15th,” she said, chuckling internally at the look Cormoran had given her when he’d heard the date. The Ides Of March. 

“And will Nick and Ilsa be in the room when the baby is born?” there was a tinge of distaste in her mother’s voice. 

“They will. It’s their child. They deserve to be there to see it brought into the world.” Robin had put her foot down on that one. Ilsa had been obvious, but Nick hadn’t wanted to offend Robin’s modesty. 

“I know it’s my child, but I don’t want to see parts of Robin I shouldn’t be seeing…That’s all I’m saying,” he’d said when Ilsa had been astounded at his assertion that he wouldn’t be in the delivery room when the baby was being born. 

She’d grinned, “You have to be there, Knickers. But I’ll understand if you turn your back.” 

“Seconded. You can’t miss the first moments, Nick. We’ve waited so long,” Ilsa said softly. And he’d capitulated. 

“Nick isn’t going to watch, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she informed her mother. 

“Probably for the best. Your father was traumatized watching Stephen being born,” Linda snickered. 

“Understandable really,” Robin cringed. “But Mum, I’m really going to need your support in this. I’ve never been pregnant before and I didn’t expect that it would happen with the first transfer. In fact, they told us it likely wouldn’t happen with the first transfer, so we’re really surprised but really excited and I feel like I’m prepared, but am I really?” Robin ejaculated at full speed. 

“Robin, darling, no woman is ever prepared,” Linda laughed. “But I’ll support you. I’ll answer any questions you have. Though,” she hesitated. “What would you like me to say here in the village? Do you want people to know?”

“I don’t see how I can hide it, but does anything really need to be said?” she mused.

“Well, Matthew is still in London and I’m sure you have some mutual friends-”

“Not one,” Robin interjected. 

“So you don’t think word will get back to him?”

“I don’t see why it would, so, I guess, let’s just cross that bridge when we come to it, okay?” she asked.

“Fair enough,” Linda conceded. “I understand it…I guess. And it is a very kind thing you’re doing. I just hope you know what you’re doing though.”

“I do, Mum. I know you’re worried and I get why, but it’s not like I won’t get to see the baby after. Nick and Ilsa are my friends. I’ll get to see the baby all the time. So nothing to worry about there,” she tried to sound as reassuring as she could. “It’s just a really big favor for a friend.”

“Alright. A favor to a friend. I’ll do my best to explain it to Dad, but fair warning, he’ll probably have some questions.” She could practically see her mother’s eyebrows lowering in consternation. 

“That’s absolutely fine. He can call me anytime,” she exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. “I’m really sorry, but, I have to go Mum, I have a meeting in a few minutes that I need to prepare for. Give my love to Dad and Martin. Give Rowntree a scratch for me.” This was not a lie, though it felt like one, so desperate was she to ring off. 

“I will. Love you.”

“Love you too.” She disconnected and dropped her head to her desk in relief, barely resisting the urge to groan aloud. 

Through her closed office door she could hear the office phone ringing, followed swiftly by the sound of their new office manager, Pat Chauncey, answering, “Strike Agency. Pat speaking, how can we help?” and she quickly glanced at the time. 

Sam, Michelle and Andy were due at eleven for a team meeting with her and Cormoran, during which she would explain her pregnancy and how things would be handled within the agency to accommodate it. 

Cormoran had suggested they wait to explain until she was showing and when it would be obvious, but Robin had insisted that as a small and close knit team, it wouldn’t be fair to keep it from them. He’d deferred to her obviously more team centered approach and agreed to help her present a united front at this meeting. 

Though she knew Sam, at least, knew who Nick and Ilsa were, she hadn’t been certain about Andy and she knew Michelle had no idea, so after a brief conversation Cormoran had said he’d prefer if they weren’t explicitly open about who she was acting as surrogate for, just to protect the privacy of their friends and she’d agreed, though she felt pretty sure it would eventually come to light as the pregnancy wore on. 

Taking a deep and fortifying breath, she picked up her notes, phone and a pen, and headed to the outer office to make herself a cup of tea before the meeting. As she opened her door, Pat glanced over and gave her a small smile, raising an eyebrow in question. 

This was one of the things Robin had quickly come to appreciate about their new office manager. She was immensely competent on the phone, with managing the books and anticipating when her employers might need something. She’d proved this within her first week by supplying Cormoran with tea made exactly the way he liked it, after only glancing at his mug when Robin made it for him once. 

Cormoran was still trying to accustom himself to her, and they had a tenuous, careful working relationship, but Robin had found no reason at all to regret having hired the vapeing, raspy voiced matron. 

Robin waved the questioning look off, and mimed drinking a cup of tea back, tilting her head as she did so to ask if Pat needed a cup. She received a wide smile, revealing slightly crooked teeth, and a nod.

Nodding, crossed the office, finding Cormoran’s door wide open and the man himself standing with an arm braced against the wall next to one of his large windows. His other hand was holding his phone to his ear, and she could tell from the set of his shoulders that it must be Lucy on the other end. 

He hadn’t heard her approach, so with a quick glance at his desk she turned away, preparing to start the meeting without him. 

In their tiny break room, after flicking the switch on the kettle, she lined up six mugs, each with a tea bag dropped in. She then turned and went about laying out biscuits on a plate, which went on the tea tray. As she was filling the mugs with the boiling water, she heard the office door open and the sound of Sam and Andy discussing their football teams chances in the playoffs. She added the mugs to the tray, with the biscuits, as well as the sugar packet container Cormoran had cadged from somewhere after she mentioned it would be nice to have one, then she picked up the tray carefully and made her way out to the outer office. Glancing through Cormoran’s still open door as she did so, to see he was still on the call, and still had his back turned. 

As she came down the hall, balancing her load, Sam caught sight of her and jumped up to take the tray from her, “Let me git that fer ye Robs,” and slid it onto the low coffee table. 

“Hey guys!'' She greeted the assembly. “Strike is just finishing up a call, so I’ll start in a mo’. I’m just going to go signal that you guys are here. Grab a tea and a biscuit,” she picked up Cormoran’s I ❤ Cornwall mug. “I’ll go let him know you’re here.”

With that, she turned and walked quietly back down the hall, and seeing him still on the phone, she moved to his side so that he’d see her in his periphery. He glanced over and she mouthed, “Lucy?” as she handed him the mug.

He nodded, pulling a face that indicated it was a serious call, not just one of her usual chats. “Cheers,” he mouthed back, lifting the mug as though toasting her.

“Team’s here…but I’ll take it,” she whispered. 

He, again, pulled a face, this one of apology, but she waved him off. She knew it must be important if he wasn’t interrupting his sister to take this meeting, and it worried her. 

“We’ll talk later, yeah?”

He nodded and after laying a consoling hand on his shoulder, she left his office, pulling his door to, so that he wouldn’t be interrupted. 

She rejoined the group in the outer office and with a smile, said, “Strike seems to be stuck on a call he can’t get off of, so he’ll join us when he can. In the meantime, let’s go over what we have. Sam?”

Sam began updating the rest of the team on his case. “I’ve spent the last week trailing Uni everywhere, but so far, all I’ve seen him do is eat, drink, and play games on his phone.”

Uni, was a first year university student who’d been given a scholarship to King’s College, but whose parents had hired the agency to find out what he was doing with his days.

“I’m no sure what the fuss is aboot tae be honest,” Sam said, shrugging his shoulders. 

Robin thought for a moment, then, “Why don’t you give it a few more days and if you still have nothing, we’ll discuss approaching his roommate,” she suggested. 

“Ye’ve got it,” he said with a nod. 

Sam was followed by Andy’s update on his insurance fraud case and then Michelle’s update on the custody case she was doing surveillance for. 

“Mum looks clean. I haven’t seen her doing anything in a week that seems off tilt, but…” she trailed off with a shrug.

“Yeah, we’ll keep documenting. As long as he’s paying us,” Robin finished for her. 

With one more glance back toward Cormoran’s office she said, “Now that we’ve all been updated, I have a few things to make you aware of, and I want to make sure you understand that if you have questions you’re welcome to come to me or Strike at any time.”

She noticed the slight shifts in posture in each of the four people in front of her. Pat tilted her head curiously, Michelle sat slightly more forward, shifting her elbows further along her legs, onto her knees. Hutchins leaned his head into his hand, which was propped on the arm of the sofa, and Sam, who’d elected to stand, leaning against the wall next to the door, pushed himself off the wall, alert to the subtle shift in her tone of voice, like a runner waiting for the gun. 

She’d expected that from Sam, some experiences, like digging the body of a small pony out of a dell, brought you closer together. 

“I know that at last month’s first meeting I was unwell and I wanted to explain why and how it will change the agency for a little while.

”Jesus, Rob. Dinnae say ye’ve got cancer or something,” Sam burst out, his face stricken.

“No! God. I’m so sorry,” she chuckled. “It’s nothing like that.”

She looked at each of them in turn, and then, “I’m pregnant.”

Immediately the room erupted in to shouts of surprise and congratulations and general chaos. 

“Hold on! Just…” she waved her hands to get their attention. “Hold on! It’s not what you think. I’m not seeing anyone,” she directed this at Sam, who’d been the most shocked. “It’s a surrogacy. I’m pregnant for someone else.”

“Say whit noo?” Sam asked. “Up th' duff fer someone else? How’s that work then?”

“If you’ll hush a moment I’ll tell you,” she laughed. “I have a couple married friends who’ve tried for years to get pregnant. IVF, fertility treatments, all of it. And they haven’t been successful. So, since I’m healthy and single and not really looking to mingle my DNA with anyone else’s, I volunteered to attempt getting pregnant with one of their already fertilized eggs. The transfer happened this past month and was apparently successful, because I am one hundred percent pregnant.”

“And you didn’t even have the fun of making it,” Michelle shook her head solemnly, though there was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. 

“Yes, well. At the moment, as I said, I’m not looking to ‘mingle’,” she put air quotes around the word. “And I don’t see that happening for quite a while, especially now,” she grinned. “No one wants to go on a first date with a woman who might end up in the loo throwing up the nice dinner he just bought her.”

“Ah, morning sickness getting ye then?” Sam asked.

“God, my wife had a horrible time with it, with both of our kids. Hyperemesis gravidarum they called it. She had to be in hospital for ages until they found the right thing to manage her nausea. Just to keep her hydrated,” Hutchins added. 

“Well, luckily, I mostly have it in the morning, though some smells have been known to trigger an unpleasant situation in the past few days,” she grimaced. 

“The wife coudnae staun the reek o' cooking meat. Anytime she smelled anythin' like tha’, 'twas aff tae the bog wi' her. Ye’ve got my sympathies thare.”

Having been silent through most of this, Pat finally interjected, “Is this why you had me take you off the rota then?”

“Yes. Exactly. And, that brings me to my next,” she smiled at Pat and then addressed the rest, “For the duration, I’ll be working mostly from here in the office. Strike has agreed to let me handle the majority of the consultations and post case debriefs with the clients, which frees him, and you three, up for picking up my slack. I’ll also be taking on any of the lighter cases that just require quiet surveillance. Insurance fraud, custody battles,” she motioned to Michelle. “Anything that can keep me safe in the Land Rover or BMW and out of harm's way’ as Strike says,” she used the air quotes again. 

“Damn right,” came his rumble from behind her. “I’m not risking you or that baby just because you want to do your fair share. That work for everyone?” he asked, his eyes sweeping the assembled team. At their nods, he nodded firmly, “Good. Now, are there any questions?” Sam opened his mouth, with a suspicious twinkle in his eyes, but was cut off by Cormoran, who held up a hand and clarified, “Questions pertaining to the agency’s rota and temporary rearrangement.” He looked over at Robin and she saw that the skin around his eyes was tense and white. Her worry for whatever that conversation had been with Lucy doubled. 

The team all shook their heads, and Robin nodded, “I’m sure there will be some eventually. You’re more than welcome to come to me about them and I’ll sort them out with Pat and Strike. And please, let me say, I really appreciate your support and willingness to pick up my slack out there. And I promise, it’s worth it.”

Ten minutes later, after hugs and a few more congratulations from the others, the three subcontractors had cleared out and Pat had headed out for her hour lunch break. 

Robin followed Cormoran into his office, closed the door behind her and waited.

Cormoran stood, staring out the window, aware that Robin was waiting behind him, and grateful for her always restful presence. Lucy had not imparted good news and he was still grappling with it, trying to figure out how to process it, along with everything else still whirling through his brain. 

“How’d the meeting go?” he asked, still not facing her, no real goal other than to have her voice fill his ears and help him figure out where to go from here.

“What’s happened, Cormoran?” she asked, ignoring his question and laying a hand on his arm. 

He took a deep breath, and then, like ripping off a plaster, “Ted is dying.”

“Oh Cormoran,” she gasped softly, putting her hand to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. What’s happened?”

“Stage four pancreatic cancer,” he looked over at her, saw her eyes close with pained understanding and sadness. “He kept it quiet. Didn’t tell us until now, when it’s terminal,” and he knew he hadn’t succeeded in keeping the thread of anger twining through him, from coming out in his voice. He hated it, but he couldn’t stop it. 

Much like the cancer that would take the only real father he’d ever had away from him. 

“I don’t know what to say to help you,” her voice was so quiet and sad, that for a moment he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and just hold onto her. 

But he didn’t. 

“I don’t know either,” he admitted. 

“Do you need to go to Cornwall?” she asked as she pulled out her phone and opened the team calendar.

“Lucy thinks we have a few days, but as soon as the rota is sorted...” he trailed off.

“I’ll work with Pat and get right on it, but Cormoran,” she moved closer to him, waiting for him to look at her. Close enough so that he could feel the warmth emanating from her. He looked at her. “I’m driving you to Cornwall, Cormoran. I don’t want you to be alone.”

And he gave in. 

He reached out and pulled her to him, nearly sighing in relief as her arms circled his waist and her head tucked itself just under his chin. 

“I just…” he started to say.

“Need a moment.” she finished for him. “I know.”

He nodded, his beard catching in her hair, and stirring the scent of her even deeper into his nose. 

He took a deep, shuddering breath and felt her arms tighten around him, one hand coming up to move across his back, a gesture meant to soothe him, but that only managed to make the backs of his eyes prickle.

“You’re not alone, you know,” she said softly. 

He never knew how long they stood there, arms around each other, holding on for dear life, as his world tilted on its axis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to have to rethink my plan to use all Joseph songs for this fic as the outline has now expanded to 37 chapters and Joseph doesn't have that many songs for me to work with...So...just a heads up. 
> 
> But I don't think it really matters to most of you anyway. 🤣


	14. The Literal Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here we are...the first of the chapters that aren't based on a song by Joseph. 
> 
> But this song fits what Cormoran is feeling through this chapter so well, the slow that builds to something else. 
> 
> It's such a gorgeous song and sadly, there are no live videos of it. So again, I'm linking you to Spotify. 
> 
> I hope you like [The Literal Heart.](https://open.spotify.com/track/3y2wg7SOqDbWEv18LhxWqR?si=paujBT-fRSmN7rye1D-IxA)

_But that would cost me time and change,_   
_That I might not be willing to make._   
_It's gonna take every drop of young blood I've got,_   
_To hold on, and stop, and settle down._

As he heard the rattle and bang of the Land Rover pulling to the kerb outside his new Camden flat, he had the sudden thought that her presence in his life had brought him nothing but good. 

Peace and contentment, affection and kindness…once alien to him, were now almost constant in his day to day life. She understood him in a way no one else ever had, and he’d realized that where he’d thought Charlotte had understood him, she’d never even come close. Not the way Robin did. 

Her bright head and even brighter smile popped out of the driver door and she hopped to the pavement, allowing him to slam the door behind her. 

“This is the last load, according to Knickers. Want me to help until he gets here?”

“Fine,” he acquiesced. “But nothing heavy. Peanut won’t like it.”

Peanut, as they’d all begun to refer to the baby she carried, was still giving her occasional fits of morning sickness, but after the research he’d done on morning sickness remedies, the tea, the hard candies and the saltines he’d brought her, had seemed to help with the worst of it. Or so she said. 

But she was looking healthy and seemed in good spirits, though maybe a little quieter, but he put that down to her empathy for him and what he and his family were going through. 

In the past four days, between her, Sam, Nick and Ilsa, they’d gotten him moved into this new flat. She’d explained the situation to Pat, who’d hastily worked the rota out so that Michelle, Sam and Andy would be able to take on Cormoran’s surveillance duties starting tomorrow morning, through the end of the week. And she’d informed him that they were leaving bright and early tomorrow morning so that she could get him to Cornwall as soon as possible. 

They’d been given a week off, though she’d still be taking consult calls and her laptop would be with them, but otherwise she’d made it clear that he was to focus only on being present with Ted and Joan and his family. “Leave the rest to me,” she’d said with a firm nod. 

And for the first time in his life, he’d trusted someone else to know what was best for him. 

She’d never steered him wrong and he didn’t think she’d do so now. 

He only regretted that he’d brought her into the grief and sadness he was experiencing just as she’d found out about Peanut. 

He reached into the open back of the Land Rover, which she’d tugged open and lifted a few boxes before finding one that he felt was light enough for her to carry. “Here, you take this one,” he handed it off to her, then hefted a large box full of books he planned to set her to unboxing and shelving them in the built in shelves he’d fallen in love at first site with. He knew her passion for organization would take precedence over her need to help carry his belongings in, and he hoped he’d be able to get the truck unloaded faster with her occupied. 

“It’s unlocked,” he called as she reached the door to his flat. “Give it a shove.”

She turned around and pushed against it with her arse, grinning at him over the box she carried, before turning back around and giving him the opportunity to follow that very nicely shaped arse, encased in black workout leggings, as it headed down the hall and into his sitting room. He didn’t often allow himself to ogle her this way, but it was hard not to when she was dressed like this. Workout leggings and a grey and black pull over jumper with holes for her thumbs, her bright hair tied back in a jaunty pony tail and bright white trainers on her seemingly sockless feet. 

She was mouthwatering and he was just barely holding on to the need to tell her he found her so, just before crushing her between him and a wall and devouring her completely. 

Even the grief and anger and sadness he was feeling did nothing to dampen his want for his partner. 

It was clear that nothing would.

He followed her into the sitting room and found her standing with a hand on the box he’d given her, where she’d set it on the coffee table. “Are you going to let me come back out there to help you with the rest?” she smiled knowingly.

“I am not. But,” he hefted the box he carried higher. “If you drag that chair over here, so I can put this box on it, I’ll show you what I do need your help with.”

She did so, with a curious look, and gasped in delight as he opened the box to reveal part of his book collection. “I need you to put them on the shelves for me. That all right?”

“Absolutely,” she grinned, even as she reached in and pulled out a paperback copy of 1974 by David Peace, skimming her finger down the spine before saying, “My father loves this series.”

“It was enjoyable,” he responded. “I’m going to…” he pointed toward the door.

“Go on. I’ll be fine,” she waved him away, turning back to the shelves.

Two hours later, all of his books were arranged on shelves, grouped by author and date they were published, as he’d known they would be, and she was standing in his kitchen, pouring water into two mugs. 

“I owe you dinner at least,” he said as she turned and leaned back against the counter. 

“I’ll take you up on it.”

He grinned at her, pleased at the easy acquiescence, “Good. Anything in particular you’d like?”

“I’m not picky.”

“I know.”

“How about a curry take away?”

“Sounds good. Feel like walking?” He glance down and saw that her feet were no longer encased in her trainers, but instead socks that, he now saw, barely covered her toes and heel. “How do they stay on?” he asked, baffled. 

She balanced on one foot, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady herself, and removed one. He shouldn’t have found the sight of her toes as arousing as he did. Toes are not sexy, he thought. 

“There’s gripping stuff in them, see?” and she turned the sock inside out to show him an elongated oval on the heel, at which he nodded, before bringing her foot up to slide the sock back on and slipping her feet back into her trainers. 

He shook himself, before patting his pockets to ensure he had his keys, fags and wallet. “Ready then?”

She nodded and followed him down the hall and out the door. 

Two hours later, she was packing up the remains of their dinner, stuffing it into the bag Cormoran had carried it home in, and preparing to leave him for the evening. “You’re all packed right?” she asked.

“The only things that aren’t packed are my books and kitchen, thanks to you,” he chuckled. 

“You know what I mean,” she swatted his arm. “You’re ready for the trip?”

“I am. You?”

“I just have a few more things to pack, but I’ll finish tonight. Do you need me to pick anything up?”

“Nothing I can’t get in St. Mawes,” he said. “Listen, Robin, I really appreciate this, if I haven’t said.”

She shook her head with a grin, “Only four or five times now. But who’s counting?”

He leaned against the end of the breakfast bar they’d just eaten at, his face serious and grave, “It can’t be said enough.”

“You’d do it for me,” she said quietly. 

“I would. But I’m no less grateful for knowing that.”

“I know,” she jingled her keys in her hand then reached for the bag of trash. “I’ll put this in your outside bin on my way out.”

“Oh,” he straightened, gesturing toward the door. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Any requests for biscuits for the drive tomorrow?” she teased as she reached the door.

“Biscuits,” he said definitively. “You pick. I’ll eat.” He reached for the door, holding it open for her. 

“Done.”

She turned with a smile at him, before bouncing up to plant a kiss on his cheek. “See you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “’Night.”

“’Night, Cormoran,” she smiled at him over her shoulder and walked away, her lips tingling interestingly from his beard. 

She deposited the bag into the bin and climbed into the Land Rover, glancing over at the lights still glowing in his sitting room windows. As much as she was looking forward to returning to St. Mawes, and with him, she wished it wasn’t under these circumstances, with Ted sick and almost certainly dying and her pregnant and overly emotional. 

But there wasn’t any changing it now.

* * *

The morning dawned cold and rainy, and though he knew Robin would have tea and biscuits packed and ready to be loaded into his BMW, he’d run out to the Costa around the corner and picked up coffees and bacon sandwiches for them to start off the trip. He pulled up outside her flat and tooted the horn. She opened the door and called, “Just a mo,” before ducking back inside. He put the car in park and walked quickly to her door, nudging it open just in time to see her dashing back down the hall, carrying the thermos and what he’d come to think of as their road trip bag that he knew would be full of biscuits and crisps and other snacks. 

“Good morning,” she chirped at him.

“This all you have?” he asked, pointing at her rolling case. 

“Other than this,” she held up the thermos and bag. “That’s it.”

He nodded and pulled the handle up, before reaching out for the thermos and bag of snacks. “You lock up. I’ll load these up.”

“Thanks!”

“No problem. There’s a coffee and bacon buttie in the front seat for you. Figured I’d better make a contribution to the road trip sustenance for once. Especially considering this is our longest roadtrip together,” he said as they walked out together. 

“Is it?” she asked curiously. “I hadn’t realized.”

“I think the longest we’ve ever done was Barrow, I think?,” he informed her as he held the drivers door for her. 

“Yeah. My GPS says five hours and about fifteen minutes,” she was tapping her phone as he climbed into the passenger side. She’d connected it to a contraption, she’d apparently slid into the heating vent, that allowed her to see the screen while driving. “You’ll still navigate for me though, right?”

“Ellacott, you won’t even need the GPS. I could find my way back to St. Mawes with my eyes closed,” he chuckled. 

“Right then. Let’s get this journey underway,” she said jauntily, as she put the car in gear and eased out onto the road. She glanced over at him as he sipped his coffee, “You can go ahead with your sandwich if you like. I’m going to wait until we’re on the motorway.”

“I already had mine. This one is yours,” he said. 

“I see. Couldn’t even wait to get on the road.”

“I’m a hungry man Ellacott. I may not be eating for two, but I still need sustenance for the arduous journey.”

“Oh yes, because road trips are so strenuous,” she rolled her eyes. 

He grinned at her, as he knew she’d intended, and thought to himself that a cheerful, cheeky Robin was one of the best Robin’s to have in a car. He’d always enjoyed their road trips, and her competence, not only at driving, but also at keeping his mind occupied when he needed. She also never minded him smoking, or napping. 

“Does Julie know about Ted?” she asked. 

“Why would I have told her?” he asked as he pulled his pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. 

“Well she’s bound to wonder why you’ve relocated to Cornwall for a week won’t she?” 

“No. No reason to,” he said on the exhale after lighting his fag and dropping the match into the ashtray Robin kept in the glove compartment for him. “We broke up a while back.”

“You did?” she sounded shocked.

“I didn’t tell you?”

“You most certainly did not,” she said. “What happened?”

There weren’t many things he was willing to lie about in his life, and he especially did not like the thought of lying to Robin, who was the person he wanted to remain most honest with, however, he also didn’t think it would be politic for him to explain that the reason Julie had broken up with him was because she thought that he was in love with Robin herself. And so, in the absence of the truth, he said, “She just said she wanted to date other people,” and he shrugged. 

“Oh, well I’m sorry to hear it. I liked her.”

“You’ll still get to see her,” he said. “It was amicable actually. Probably the easiest breakup I’ve ever had if I’m honest. She’ll still be at Jack’s games, since her kids are on the team, and there’s no reason she could be upset, since she’s the one who broke it off.”

Robin made a noncommittal humming noise.

He scrambled to change the subject. “How’s the morning sickness going? Any of those morning sickness remedies helping?” Once Robin had left the night she’d told Nick and Ilsa that she was pregnant, he’d finished his research on which of the morning sickness remedies seemed most effective, based on reviews, and had ordered all of them, to be delivered to the office, from Amazon, but he’d sent them in her name so that Pat would put them on her desk and he hadn’t said anything about them. Nor had she.

“Yeah, good. The tea is wonderful. And I like ginger already so the hard candies are great for queasy moments,” she darted a quick glance over at him. “Was that you?” 

He fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, turning his face away, as he felt the heat of a flush rising on his cheeks. “Um,” he scratched his chin. “Yeah. I researched it. And picked the ones that got the best reviews on Amazon.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that was you?” she exclaimed. “I’ve been so confused. Ilsa said she didn’t send it. Vanessa either. And I didn’t remember ordering them for myself. It’s been driving me crazy,” she laughed. 

“Well…I…” he stammered. “Aren’t you a detective?” he accused jokingly, risking a glance over at her.

“I am. But you’re so damn closemouthed and I had no way to figure it out really. You didn’t use the agency Amazon account.”

“Ah,” he raised his eyebrows. “So you did check.”

“Well there were only so many suspects, but I hadn’t had a chance to ask Nick yet,” she laughed. “You should have said something.”

“I should have,” he admitted. “Sorry.”

He watched peripherally as her left hand left the wheel and landed on his, squeezing it gently as she waited for the traffic signal to turn green so that she could turn onto the motorway. Though they had been much more physically affectionate with each other in the months since her divorce, it was usually hugs and air kisses and usually only during social events. But in the last month alone he’d held her in his arms three times more than he had in the last year and so, her hand covering his was startling. He was even more startled to find that his hand was turning over, seemingly of it’s own volition, and clasping hers back. 

She was still staring straight ahead, her eyes on the traffic signal, but he could see, in the watery light, a hint of pink cresting in her cheeks. 

The signal turned green and he released her hand, turning away to finish his fag as she put the car back in gear and edged forward following the line of cars onto the A303. 

They drove in silence for a brief while. He texted Lucy, who had driven down with her children the evening before, to let her know that they were on their way and what their estimated time of arrival was. Answered a couple emails from clients and read a few of the morning’s headlines out loud, allowing Robin to choose which he’d read out first. 

By eight o’clock he was restless. “Want a tea?” he asked her. 

“Sure. Thermos is behind you.”

He twisted around and caught the loops of the bag she’d packed on the tips of his fingers, pulling out the thermos first. He used their coffee cups from earlier, filling hers with the creosote colored brew first and setting it back in the cup holder sandwiched between them in the small cockpit of the car. “Ta,” she said, eyes still on the road.

He lit another fag, sipping his tea and trying to think of what to say.

Normally he didn’t mind the silences between them; finding them comforting and soothing most times. One of the best things about Robin was the way she never seemed to need to fill a silence with meaningless prattle. But this morning felt different. 

Instead of peaceful the silence felt charged. 

Not tense…but as though it was waiting. 

For something. 

The hand holding hadn’t helped. 

“Have you heard from Thomas lately?” he asked.

“Not for a few days. He’s busy though, with the show,” she glanced over. “And his schedule is so crazy that there’s literally only about thirty minutes a day that we’re awake and not busy at the same time. So it’s been a struggle but we communicate mostly via text anyway.”

“I hope he’s enjoying it.”

“He is. It’s pretty much everything he’s ever dreamed of. The lead role in Jekyll & Hyde. I’m hoping it puts him on the map,” she chuckled. 

“He deserves it,” Cormoran added. 

“He does.”

They lapsed back into silence. 

An hour later, she was pulling off the road and into a petrol station. “I’ll pump it,” he volunteered.

“Alright, then. I need the loo. Need anything while I’m in there?”

“Packet of crisps and more tea if you could,” and he reached into his wallet and handed her twenty quid. “Whatever you need as well.” 

“Right. Be right back,” and she strode off toward the store with her hands tucked in her coat pockets. 

She’d dressed today in a pair of black denim trousers and a camel colored jumper, over which she’d pulled a black peacoat and forest green scarf with a matching beanie hat pulled over her amber hair. He couldn’t figure out why it struck him as sexy. He’d seen her in similar attire before, and he’d certainly seen her in sexier, but there was something about her lately that just drew his eye constantly. Like her figure was metal and his eyes were magnets. 

He turned to the pump and inserted his credit card and went through the motions of pumping the petrol, leaning back against the side of the car, facing the store she’d disappeared inside. 

He could see her now, standing in the queue to pay, and seeing in her in profile reminded him that the pregnancy would soon be evident and he wondered what she’d look like with her belly curved. 

Charlotte, the last time he’d seen her, had looked worn and tired and her stomach had been almost grotesquely protuberant with the twins she’d been carrying. But he thought that memory might also be tainted by the knowledge that she hadn’t wanted to be pregnant and had resented it. Robin had no such resentment and, indeed, really did seem to glow the way he’d always heard pregnant women did. Even on mornings when he could tell she’d had a rough go of it with the morning sickness, she still looked lovely. He realized he was actually looking forward to seeing the changes in her figure as this pregnancy wore on. 

She strode out of the store with a carrier bag and two large to go cups and grinned at him. “So cold,” she said with an exaggerated shiver as she handed him one of the go cups. 

“Cheers,” he saluted her. “Get in and get warm, I think this we’re almost done here.”

Sure enough, the pump clicked off, indicating the car was full and after replacing the pump and putting the petrol cap on he rejoined her in the cab. She started the engine as he climbed in and he was welcomed by a blast of heat from the heater and Robin holding out a Twix bar. “Want?”

“More than the car wanted petrol,” he said as he ripped the wrapper open and devoured half in two bites. 

“I think we’ve got another hour and a half, maybe two hours to go,” she said as she sipped her tea.

“Sounds about right,” he said thickly.

“Your crisps are in the bag as well,” she patted the plastic carrier bag on the bench between them. “There’s a bag for me as well.”

His phone dinged with an incoming text. He dug it out as he took a hasty gulp of his tea and saw it was from Lucy.

He opened it and nearly dropped his tea. “Fuck!”

Robin’s head whipped around, “What’s happened?”

“Ted’s slipped into a coma. Lucy says the doctors think we don’t have much longer.”


	15. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At first I thought this song was going to be for the next chapter...but then I realized it needed to be here. And the song I've chosen for the next chapter is absolutely perfect. 
> 
> But this song...It's Cormoran. 
> 
> It's Cormoran made into song. 
> 
> Especially in these moments. 
> 
> This is [Nine.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TijTd60iFDw)

_So show me what to do  
To restart this heart of mine  
How do I forgive myself  
For losing so much time?_

Once they were back on the motorway, Robin pushed the car to it’s limit, hoping to get Cormoran to St. Mawes before it was too late, the result being that she pulled into the car park of the Royal Cornwall Hospital an hour and fifteen minutes later. She pulled up to the door, instead of parking, “You go ahead,” she said. “I’ll park and wait.”

He wanted to argue with her. To tell her that she’d be welcome. But he couldn’t deny the urgency he felt to get to Ted before it was too late, so he nodded and clambered out of the truck, stopping only to say, “I’ll text you when I know where he is,” before heading into the hospital. 

He found the reception desk and after a brief moment, as directed to the correct ward.

Two floors, and three corridors, and one text to Robin later, he found his nephew Jack, sitting with his brothers in a waiting room. Jack had obviously been waiting for his arrival because he sprang up and ran toward him as soon as he spotted him.

“Mum said to tell you to go in as soon as you got here. She and Granny are in there with him now. He’s in room 314. Third door on the right,” Jack’s eyes were red rimmed but he was calm as he imparted the information. Adam and Luke were also clear eyed, but as they joined their brother it was obvious they’d been crying shortly before he’d arrived. 

“Right,” Cormoran reached into his pocket, pulling out a few bills and handing them to Jack and then addressing the three boys, “I need you three to go get some tea or hot chocolate. Bring me back four teas as well. I’ll text you if anything changes. Okay?”

“Got it,” Jack said. “Four teas, Uncle Corm?”

“Robin’s drove me. She’ll be up in a mo.”

“Right,” he looked at his brothers. “Let’s go.” And he led the way toward the elevators. 

Cormoran took a moment, steeling himself against the emotions threatening to swamp him. Wishing desperately for Robin to be there with him, but he knew she couldn’t be. He took a deep breath and walked down the corridor to the third door on the right. He eased the door open and was greeted by the sight of his Aunt Joan, who gave him a watery smile from the chair on the opposite side of the bed. She’d pulled the chair up close to Ted’s bed, and was holding his hand in hers. 

Lucy was on the other side, holding Ted’s other hand, and as Cormoran stepped fully into the space she reached out for him. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his body. “Oh, Stick,” she whispered on a small sob. “Thank God you made it in time.”

He said nothing, just continued to hold her as she cried quietly into his jumper, while he tried to reconcile the frail looking man in the bed with the big, strapping, quiet voiced, bruiser who’d taught him how to sail when he’d been ten years old. Who’d screamed and shouted in The Victory at their beloved Gunners over a pint or dozen. Who’d patiently taught him how to string a fishing line, start a bonfire, and cook a curry. This man, thin and wasted, seemed so small. His grey hair still curly and riotous, but his eyes sunken and closed. His hands, once so huge and strong, looked as though they’d snap with a light squeeze. 

He blinked rapidly against the tears stinging his eyes. He didn’t want to cry here. Not now. Not when his aunt and Lucy and the boys needed him to remain strong for them. Ted would have expected it. If Ted was slipping away, he’d expect Cormoran to step into his shoes as head of the family. Shore them all up in their grief the way he’d always shored them all up through all of the trials and difficulties of their lives. 

Cormoran only now realized that he was nowhere near prepared for that. 

Hadn’t thought he’d ever need to be. 

Never wanted to be. 

Foolishly he’d thought he’d have more time. 

The curtain was pulled back gently, admitting a short, dark skinned, nurse. “Sorry to bother, but we need to check his levels. Would you mind waiting in the corridor? I’ll come and get you when we’ve finished,” she said quietly, kindly, as she laid a consoling hand on Joan’s shoulder. 

“Of course,” Joan answered. “How long?”

“About fifteen minutes? Give or take,” the nurse answered and seeing the worry in Joan’s face she added, “One of us will come find you if he takes a turn Mrs. Nancarrow. I promise.”

“Okay,” Joan nodded again. 

“I just…” she glanced up into Cormoran’s face. “I just…Don’t want…”

“I know, Joan. Come on. The boys’ll have tea for us by now,” he released Lucy, who slipped out of the room as he tucked his arm around Joan.

“I don’t want him to be alone, Corm,” she whispered as he guided her out of the room and slowly down the hall. 

“He won’t be. You heard the nurse, they’ll send someone,” he reassured her. 

“I’m sorry darling. I’m so sorry,” she said, as they reached the waiting area. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears that fell as she looked down at her feet. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Joan. Not now,” he soothed. 

“He…” she sniffled. “He didn’t…want to worry you two. When he found out he said to me, ‘Don’t go telling Corm and Luce. They have enough to worry about without adding me to it,’ and I tried to get him to change his mind, but you know how he can be,” she finished on a soft sob. 

“Stubborn to the core, you mean? Brick headed?” he attempted to joke. 

“Sounds like someone I know,” came Robin’s voice from behind them. The three of them turned to find her, standing with Jack, holding cups of tea which she quickly doled out to them, before resting her arm along Jack’s shoulders. Jack looked up at her with eyes full of stars.

Cormoran could definitely relate. 

“I’m not stubborn,” he protested, hoisting an eyebrow as he sipped his tea. 

“Utter malarkey,” Robin said in a stage whisper to Jack, before glancing at Joan. “Mrs. Nancarrow, I’m terribly sorry to meet you under these circumstances, but I didn’t want Cormoran coming down alone.”

“Aunt Joan, this,” Cormoran said, “Is my partner, Robin Ellacott.”

“Oh yes! You’re the one that came to stay with Cecily back last February.”

“Yes,” Robin confirmed quietly, with a brief glance up at him. 

“I told her after that she should have brought you to tea, but she said you…”

“I didn’t want to impose,” Robin supplied.

“It wouldn’t have been an imposition. We’ve been looking forward to meeting you since Lucy told us you were working with Corm. Though why Lucy had to tell me,” she mock glared at her nephew, who studiously looked away, finding something terribly interesting out the windows on the other side of the waiting room. “I’m sure I’ll never know.”

“Nana?” Jack asked. “How’s Gramps?” 

“Well, I don’t really know, darling,” Joan answered him. “The nurses were going to be checking him for a few minutes so they asked us to wait here until they come to get us. But I’m sure they’ll let us know when they finish.” She turned her attention back to Robin, who had tucked her arm back around Jack’s shoulders while beings flanked by Adam and Luke. “Where will you be staying Robin?”

“With us, Joan,” Cormoran said. 

“Actually, no,” Robin corrected. “I reached out to Cecily and she’s said I’m welcome to stay with her.”

“Oh,” he was nonplussed. 

“I just…” she hesitated, looking from him to Joan, “I just assumed that you might not have enough room and I didn’t want to-” 

“Impose,” Joan said with a ghost of a smile.

“Yes,” Robin nodded. “Plus I just…well…I thought you all might like some privacy. As a family. And Cecily has been at me to come visit, now that…” she trailed off, unsure of whether or not to mention the pregnancy.

Joan, however, didn’t have a chance to question her further as, from behind them, came, “Mrs. Nancarrow?”

Instead of the nurse, they were faced with a tall, blond, young doctor, whose white coat bore the name, “Dr. Dwight Pengelly.”

“How is he?” Lucy asked.

“His vitals are holding steady, but the pneumonia and obstruction in his bowels are weakening him despite our best efforts with antibiotics and fluids. At this point, we’re just managing his pain. We don’t think it’s going to be long though. Maybe not even through the night,” his voice trailed off as Joan covered her face in her hands. Cormoran stepped to her side, enveloping her in his arms. 

“I’m very sorry,” added the doctor, as he offered a box of tissues.

Cormoran nodded at him in thanks and he turned to go back into the ward. 

He glanced at Lucy, catching her eye and then looking at her three boys, before nodding his head in the direction of Ted’s room. 

Lucy nodded in response and motioned for the boys to follow her, so they could say their last goodbyes privately as a family. 

Cormoran watched as Robin tightened her arm around Jack before he slipped away and wrapped his arm around his mother’s waist as he and his brothers walked with her down the hall. 

Robin stayed where she was as he held his now sobbing aunt, her gaze never leaving him, but rather bolstering him and giving him the strength he needed. 

After a few moments he led Joan to a chair and sat with her hand in his. 

Robin, obviously sensing their need for a moment of privacy, wandered further down the corridor.

“He adored you, you know,” Joan sniffled as he passed her another tissue. 

“Best dad I’ve ever had,” he said, with a sad smile. 

“He’d have loved that,” she laid a hand on his arm. “You go next darling. I’ll go after you.”

He nodded, then glanced down the corridor to see where Robin had got to. 

“I like her,” Joan said quietly, following his stare. “Your Robin.”

“She’s not my Robin,” he protested weakly.

“Psh. You’ve got calf eyes for that girl,” Joan said.

“Calf eyes? What the…” he knew what it meant, but he took exception to the words being used to describe him. 

“You listen to me Cormoran Strike,” his aunt said firmly. “When a woman drives you five and a half hours, in circumstances like this, and says it’s because she doesn’t want you to be alone, you don’t waste time mooning about. You need to snap her up.”

“She’s not a biscuit, Joan,” he scoffed, coming just shy of rolling his eyes, which he knew, would have resulted in her slapping him on the back of the head, no matter the situation. “I can’t just ‘snap her up.’”

“Sure you can.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I can’t. Not yet.”

“Not yet? Why not? It’s plain as day she’s just as calf eyed over you.”

“She’s pregnant, Joan,” he said, taking a sip of his cooling tea and turning his gaze away from the figure meandering down the hall looking at the children's paintings that had been hung there. 

“Pregnant?” Joan gasped. “I thought she was getting a divorce.”

“She did. She is.”

“Then how is she pregnant?” she turned her scandalized gaze to him.

“She’s acting as a surrogate for Nick and Ilsa,” and seeing the confusion on her face, he explained the situation.

“Oh, Cormoran,” Joan breathed as he finished. “You’re in love with her aren’t you?”

“It’s not right, Joan,” he shook his head, but didn’t deny her words.

“Why not? What could be righter?”

“She’s my business partner and best mate. And,” he went on,” I’m not the marrying kind.”

“Bollocks. You are absolutely the marrying kind.”

“Kind of you to say so, but I’m not. I can’t be. Otherwise I’d have…”

“That creature,” she wrinkled her nose in disgust, refusing to mention Charlotte’s name. “Wasn’t worth ten of you. I’ve told you a million times. She was a parasite and you’re well shot of her.”

“Be that as it may…”

“What’s worrying you, boy?” she cut him off.

“Name it. She’s pregnant and emotional, what if I ‘make a move’ as you say, and when she’s not pregnant anymore she realizes she doesn’t want me? That it was all just a result of some deep seated biological urge for strong hands and a warm body to snuggle up to at night.”

“What you don’t realize is that it doesn’t take being pregnant for a woman to want that,” she gave a half laugh. “But even so, there’s no way that’s going to happen.”

“What makes you so sure it won’t? Because, Robin, she’s so good, Joan,” he looked at her earnestly. “So good. At everything. With everyone. And I’m…Well, if I couldn’t make it work with Charlotte, after sixteen years,” he shrugged. “I don’t stand a snowball's chance in hell with Robin.”

Joan set her cup on the table in front of them with a snap and turned to him, “You couldn’t make it work with that woman,” she made a moue of distaste, “because she was bent on destruction and thrived on drama. I’ve only just met Robin and I can already tell she’s perfect for you. Kind, caring, gentle,” she ticked off on her fingers. “It’s obvious Jack adores her, Adam and Luke as well. Lucy can’t say enough about her, and look what she’s doing for your dearest friends. If you don’t snap her up, and soon, you’re going to regret it when someone else does and she’s lost to you forever. Women like Robin don’t wait around forever. Trust me. I should know. Married a man just like you myself didn’t I?” She patted his hand and sat back. “As for the pregnancy, don’t worry about it so much. She’s a grown woman. She knows her feelings and she knows you. She trusts you and cares for you, and she did even before the pregnancy.” She smiled down the corridor as Robin began strolling back toward them, “She came to Cornwall when she needed a break didn’t she? Didn’t you wonder why?”

He looked over at her, shook his head, even though he had. But he wanted to hear why she thought Robin had decamped here. 

“She wanted to be near you. Scared and sad and alone, that girl came to the one place, other than London, where she could be with you. She wandered the beaches and ate at The Victory and spent time in your childhood haunts. She’s in love with you, Corm. She just needs to know you want her.” She took his hand, threaded her fingers through his and squeezed. “Let her know how you feel, darling. You do that and she’ll be yours forever.”

“We’ll see,” he murmured quietly. “I love you, Joan.”

“I know you do, my love. I love you too. Best son I never had.”

He chuckled and brought their joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of hers, just as Lucy and the boys came back into the corridor.

Lucy was mopping her eyes as she whispered to the boys, who took it in turns to hug her, before coming to gather around Joan. 

“No change?” he asked her, as he stood to take his moment with the only father he’d ever known. 

Lucy shook her head and a fresh wave of tears broke. 

Robin, slipped silently alongside Lucy and wrapped her in a hug, as she nodded her head toward the ward and mouthed, “Go on.”

He nodded his thanks and with a glance back at Joan, who nodded at him and lifted an eyebrow as though to underscore her last words. 

He thought about Joan’s words as he walked through the ward to Ted’s room. 

He couldn’t reconcile her assertion that he was, indeed, the marrying kind. Nor that Robin was in love with him.

He was sure that there was an attraction. He’d caught her a few times, assessing him from across a room during one of the Herbert’s parties, or giving him a lingering look over the table on their pub evenings. He was self aware enough to know that he was very much attracted to, nearly bordering on in love with her. But he couldn’t shake the fear that if he acted on his feelings while she was pregnant and emotionally compromised that she’d feel that he’d taken advantage of her emotional state after the pregnancy was over and it would ruin everything they had together. 

Their friendship.

Their business.

Their mutual friendships as well, because he certainly couldn’t see Nick and Ilsa not remaining friends with her after she’d successfully delivered their long awaited and longed for child. That was an act that certainly must trump even the near lifetime of friendship he shared with the two of them. 

Not to mention, his already dented and battered heart would surely shatter if she ever left him. 

It was too risky. 

He slipped through the door, into Ted’s room and stood for a moment watching the face of the man who’d raised him. 

He scrambled to focus on this moment. 

To be present. 

Here. 

He sank into the chair his aunt had been occupying when he’d arrived. 

Took Ted’s hand into his own, feeling for himself that the visible frailty wasn’t only visible. 

He sat, clasping that cool, thin hand between his, and found himself near tears again. 

It wasn’t fair that this man, who’d been the epitome of goodness and loyalty, should have to suffer this way. 

That he’d be taken from his wife of fifty years, the children he’d raised and loved as his own, the grandchildren he’d been overjoyed to have been given.

He had so many things to be grateful to Ted for. 

His love of the sea and swimming, his love of the Arsenal Gunners and Doom Bar, his size and boxing ability, for it had been Ted who’d first tugged the gloves on with him and taught him to throw a left hook.

He laughed, remembering, ”Do you remember that time I bloodied your nose? I thought for sure you’d be cross with me. Positive you’d bloody mine right back, even though I knew better. But you didn’t,” he chuckled again. “Nah. You shook off your gloves and pinched your nose and when Joan came running because you were gushing blood, you bragged about my left hook, and said you’d teach me a right cross next. 

“You were always there for me Ted. Always. And I don’t think I ever thanked you for that. I know I didn’t. 

“I know I’ve been a shitty son, but you,” he tightened his hold on the hand he held in his. “You were the best damn dad a boy could have ever asked for. And I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m so sorry I didn’t spend more time with you. I have no excuse. None. 

“I went into the Army because of you. Did I ever tell you? I can’t remember. I probably didn’t. But I did. I grew up listening to your stories and hanging on every word and I wanted to be just like you. Just like my brave Uncle Ted. And I did. So I guess I have you to thank for everything I have now. Everything I am, I am because of you. And I’m sorry I’m only now realizing it. I wish I’d done it sooner. You deserved to know it before now.

“I love you Ted. So much,” he finished on a whisper. 

“Love…too, boy.”

His head snapped up, searching the face that was now turned toward him, eyelids fluttering. “Ted?” he asked. “Can you hear me?”

Keeping Ted’s hand in one of his he dipped his hand into his coat pocket and dragged out his phone, fumbling to unlock it and call up his call history. The last call had been from Robin, the evening before, and he pressed it, then held the phone to his ear, smiling reassuringly as he watched Ted’s dark eyes open and focus on his face. 

She answered on the second ring, “Cormoran?”

“Send everyone in. He’s awake.”

“Done.”

“Thanks,” and he disconnected, hearing the rushing footsteps of the rest of his family outside in the hall. 

“Joanie?” Ted rasped. 

“She’s right here Ted,” Cormoran stepped aside to let Joan take her place at her husband’s side. 

He found himself next to Jack, at the end of the bed and he put his hand on Jack’s shoulder, realizing, as he did so, that Jack looked at him the way he’d looked at Ted when he’d been a child. 

Jack talked about going into the Army and being a Red Cap like his uncle. 

Jack was a die hard Arsenal fan, despite his father and brothers being a Spurs fan. 

Jack was tall and lean and his hair had a slight curl. He was prettier than Cormoran or Ted could have ever dreamed of being, taking more after his grandmother, but in every other respect he was a Nancarrow. 

Cormoran squeezed his nephew’s shoulder, as he watched his aunt saying goodbye to her beloved spouse of fifty years. 

She bent to kiss Ted’s cheek, his forehead, his nose. Pausing to whisper in his ear, before nuzzling his cheek. 

And as she rose, Ted’s chest rose and fell, and didn’t rise again. 

Robin paced the corridor anxiously. 

Joan, Lucy and the children had rushed through the door without a backward glance as soon as they’d heard Cormoran’s voice over the speaker phone she’d answered with, leaving Robin alone and unsure of what to do next. 

Understandably. 

She turned and made her way to the nearest loo. For the third time since arriving. She reflected wryly that pregnancy was so far living up to the book she’d read on what to expect while expecting. As she washed her hands her phone signaled an incoming text. 

It was Cormoran.

_ He’s gone _

And she felt tears welling as she bowed her head to pray for the soul of a man she’d never met, but who’d clearly been well loved by his family and respected by his friends. 

As she left the loo, she pocketed her phone and headed back to the waiting room, finding Cormoran, alone, sitting in a chair with his head in his hands. She sat next to him and leaned her head against his shoulder. He didn’t move, though he did let out a long exhale. 

They were still sitting that way when Joan, Lucy and the boys found them. 

“Cormoran,” she whispered, letting him know they were there and he looked up then stood and gathered his aunt and sister into his arms, the boys ringed them, creating a group hug and a unit. 

She sat, watching her friend and partner as he comforted his family and allowed them to comfort him. His eyes were red as they met hers and he nodded at her, thanking her silently for her presence here. 

She nodded back and held his gaze as his aunt and sister sobbed their grief into his chest and waited for the storm of grief to pass.


	16. Saturn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many oodles of thanks to my sweet @foreverhalffull for taking the time to beta this chapter for me. Her talent and love and friendship is truly wonderful and cherished and I hope she knows how proud all of us are to know her. ❤😘
> 
> I know that I've used this song once before for a poem...But it needed to be used here as well. 
> 
> It's the song I've decided I want played at my own funeral, because it sums up how I feel about the world and the people I love best, because for me, the people I love _are_ my universe...and I know that I'd do anything to get to see them again if I lost one of them. 
> 
> So I'm sorry...But I think it's a beautiful song and it fits Ted and Joan quite beautifully as well. 
> 
> This is [Saturn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3lWwMHFhnA).

_ I’d give anything to hear _

_ You say it one more time _

_ That the universe was made _

_ Just to be seen by my eyes _

The funeral was held three days later at St. Mawes Church.

Robin sat, with Cecily and Ilsa, watching as Comoran, Greg, Dave Polworth, Nick and two of Ted’s fellow former lifeguard members carried Ted’s coffin into the church before joining their families. She was seated, at Cormoran and Cecily’s insistence, in the pew just behind the family. 

“How’s Cormoran taking it?” Ilsa had asked, her eyes red and teary, when she and Nick had arrived the evening before.

“I think he’s just trying to stay busy at this point,” she’d replied. “If he stays busy he doesn’t have to think about it.”

“Sounds like Corm,” Ilsa had said with a rueful smile. “Keep marching on.”

Robin, however, knew that no matter how hard Cormoran tried to run from it, the grief would eventually catch up to him, and she was determined to be there for him when it did. 

She’d called Pat the morning after Ted’s passing to let her know what had happened and had asked Pat to make sure all office calls came through to her. None were to go to Cormoran. Not until they were back in London and he was back in the office on Monday.

“Will you stay? In Cornwall, I mean? After the funeral?” Pat had asked.

“I’m trying to persuade him to. If anything just to make sure he’s here with his Aunt for the first few days. She’ll need support,” Robin replied. 

“Poor woman. When I lost my second husband it was a nightmare. His children fought me and each other over everything,” she explained. “I loved the man, but he was complete shit at disciplining his kids and it showed. Still, I am sorry Mr. Strike has lost his uncle. Shall I send flowers from the agency?”

“Could you? Use my card. I’ll cover it. Maybe an arrangement with gladioli. I know Ted was an avid gardener and he’d have liked some thought put into the flowers at his funeral.”

“Consider it done. I’ll put all of us on the card.”

“Cheers, Pat.”

“Keep me posted?”

“Absolutely.”

She’d rung off and spent the rest of the day slipping out of the room to take the calls that Pat forwarded to her, in between making tea and keeping a watch on the boys while Joan, Cormoran and Lucy, with assistance from Cecily, went over the funeral arrangements.

It had been decided that Ted would be cremated and sometime, in the near future, they would take his ashes out and scatter them in the sea. Lucy had not wanted this, had argued vociferously against it, but Joan had put her foot down. 

“He loved the sea and sailing, and he lived here his whole life, on the water. It’s what he wanted, love. And you’ll do the same for me when the time comes,” she’d decided.

“But how will we come visit you?” Lucy had sniffled.

“Anywhere the sea is, there we’ll be, my love.”

And Robin rather liked this idea, though she didn’t share her opinion. She liked the idea that no matter where Cormoran went, on this island of theirs, he’d be surrounded by the two people who’d loved him as their own. She hoped that he found it as comforting a thought as she did. 

She sighed quietly as the vicar stepped to the pulpit and welcomed the gathering, thanking them on behalf of the Nancarrow family, and leading them in a prayer for that family and Ted’s soul. “And now, I’d like to welcome Ted’s nephew, Cormoran, to share who Ted was to him and their family,” the vicar said.

Cormoran stood and reached into his jacket, pulling out a few note cards, before buttoning the jacket as he strode to the podium. 

He faced the church, which was full to the rafters with people lining the walls and gave them a nod. 

“Thank you all for coming today,” he began. “Ted would have been humbled by the number of you who cared enough about him to join us here today. But then, my uncle was, at heart, a humble man. Proud, though, absolutely, of his Cornish heritage, his wife Joan, his niece Lucy, and her sons, who were like grandchildren to him, and of course, me. 

“Anyone who knew Ted knew these things about him; he was fiercely loyal and ferociously kind. He’d do anything, for anybody, anytime. If you needed help, Ted was who you called.

“Ted was a longtime member of the lifeguard and proud of it. Almost prouder of that than the time he spent in the Army, working as an MP. Growing up, I used to hang on his every word, begging him to tell me stories about his time in the Army and what it was like. I think he was the only person who wasn’t surprised when I joined up as a young man, after the loss of my mother, his sister. He took special delight in asking me questions anytime I came home to visit while on leave and I enjoyed, even more, hearing his laughs and reactions and even a few of the saltier stories he hadn’t his young, impressionable, nephew,” there was a chuckle from the crowd, and a hint of a twinkle in Cormoran’s eye as he went on.

“Ted met his Joan when he was twenty-nine and he liked to tell Lucy and I that he knew he was going to marry her the moment he laid eyes on her, ‘holding court and surrounded by countless eager young lads’ he said, across the room at a party their mutual friends had thrown.” 

In the pew in front of her, Joan shook her head in amused dismay. “Somehow, though, he got up the courage to ask Joan to dinner, despite the numerous suitors and from that day on, they were inseparable. Rarely spending even one night apart in their entire fifty years of marriage. 

“Their union, sadly, was not blessed with children of their own, but speaking for myself and Lucy, I can assure you they were the most incredible parents. We never doubted they loved us, we never doubted they’d drop everything if we needed them, and they never made us feel like we were anything less than their children,” his voice cracked as he looked at Joan. “Thank you for that.” 

Robin swiped away the tears that had just welled over and felt Ilsa’s hand slip into her own. She squeezed, giving and receiving comfort, as Cormoran went on, “I owe Ted many things, my good looks,” he flashed a grin and a lift of his eyebrows, prompting another chuckle from the assembly. “My love of the Gunners, my Army career and the career that followed it. 

Ted taught us determination and dedication and perseverance. All useful in my line of work. But he also taught us the value of friendship and how friends can sometimes be the strongest family.” She met his fleeting glance with a nod. 

“I know that each of you have your own stories about Ted, and his talent for friendship, and I look forward to hearing them this afternoon as we gather together in The Victory and raise one last pint to my uncle, father, and role model, Ted Nancarrow.”

He stepped away from the podium and rejoined his family, bending to accept a long and tight hug from Joan, who whispered something in his ear that had him shaking his head at her in embarrassed modesty. As he took his seat directly in front of her, Robin couldn’t stop herself from reaching forward and laying her hand on his shoulder for a moment, and was startled when he reached up and squeezed her fingertips in his own, before releasing her so that she could sit back. 

As the service ended, he rejoined the rest of the pallbearers, carrying Ted from the sanctuary, followed by Joan, Lucy and Greg and their sons, where they were all to gather for a private moment together, before Ted was loaded into the hearse and driven to the crematorium. 

Cormoran had insisted that he would retrieve Ted’s ashes later in the week. 

Robin stood with Cecily, Ilsa and Nick in the churchyard, as the attendees filed out. She lost count of the number of handshakes and introductions she’d received, as her eyes returned over and over to the doors to the church, waiting for her partner to exit. 

“Are you his girlfriend then?” asked the lady in front of her, Gwennifer something or other, who was tall and thin with bottle green eyes, sandy blond hair and perfectly plump lips , startling Robin’s attention back to her.

“No Gwen,” Ilsa answered. “Robin’s his business partner and good friend. Ours as well,” she smiled and wrapped an arm around Robin’s waist, hugging her close.

“Oh,” said Gwen. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend.”

“It’s alright,” Robin assured her with a smile. She certainly wasn’t the first one to think she and Cormoran were a couple. And goodness knew she wouldn’t be the last. “How do you know Cormoran?” she asked the woman, in the interest of polite small talk.

Gwennifer chuckled, “He was my first boyfriend.”

Robin felt her eyes widen. “Oh!”

“It was ages ago,” Gwen laughed, waving it off. “He’s just a mate now and one of my favorite people.”

“Mine too,” Robin replied, glancing back over at the door in time to see the man himself step out into the sunshine, ushering Joan under his arm. 

He led Joan to Lucy and Greg, who’d exited moments before and then approached Robin, smiling as he saw Gwennifer, bending slightly to accept her kiss on the cheek as he asked, “Hi Gwen. How are you?”

“I’m fine. What about you?” she laid a consoling hand on his arm.

“Holding up,” he looked away and took a deep breath.

“And Joan?” she pressed. “Does she need anything?”

He glanced over at the woman in question, contemplating her gravely, “Company? She doted on Ted. Made his lunch every day, dinner most nights. He was her world,” he glanced at Robin, then back to Gwennifer. “Her whole life has been upended.”

“I’m sure it has. Poor thing,” she clicked her tongue in sympathy. “You can count on me, Corm,” Gwennifer promised him. “I’ll be sure to pop in once a week or so, bring her something to nibble on so she has to dote on me and offer me tea,” she chuckled. 

“She does love to dote on people,” he grinned as he hugged her again. “Thanks Gwenny. Means a lot.”

Gwennifer smiled, “Happy to help.” She looked at Robin and held out her hand, “It was lovely to meet you. I hope we get to chat again soon.”

“Lovely to meet you as well,” Robin replied and with a kiss for Cormoran, Ilsa and Nick each and a hug for Cecily, she headed toward the car park. 

“Do you need anything?” Robin asked Cormoran, sotto voce, as the Herbert’s and Cecily were engaged by an older lady with tightly curled white hair.

“A pint?” he joked. 

“What about a cigarette? And a walk?” she offered. 

“Could do,” he nodded, his eyes following Joan across the churchyard before coming back to rest on Robin’s face. “Yeah. A walk sounds good. We’re not due at The Victory for an hour or so, and Lucy will take Joan with her. She wants to go back to the house and change into something more comfortable,” he explained. 

“A walk it is then,” Robin nodded firmly. “I’ll let Ilsa know, and we’ll be off.”

He watched her walk away and quickly signaled Lucy, pointing to himself, and then Robin and making his fingers switch back and forth as though walking. Lucy, long used to his signals, nodded and gave him a thumbs up, before tapping her wristwatch, reminding him he only had an hour. He nodded and turned as Robin rejoined him. 

She wore a black dress with a boat neck that stopped just above her knees and a white cashmere wrap tucked around her upper arms and shoulders. She’d pinned her hair into a twist at the back of her head, in a style he’d never seen her wear before, but which accentuated the tilt of her blue grey eyes and the rounded apples of her cheeks. 

As they walked away from the crowd which still hovered around the churchyard she tucked her arm through his, guiding him along the lane, a silent and comforting presence. He stopped briefly once they were out of the church grounds and lit a fag, letting out a tired sigh on the exhale, along with the smoke. 

“How are you really?” she asked quietly as he drew on the cigarette again. 

“Bit shit, actually,” he glanced over at her. “Worried about Joan.”

“How so?”

“Honestly? I’m not sure we’ll have her for much longer.”

“Oh.”

“Ted, and their life together, was her world and she already seems lost without him. Lucy wants to try to talk her into coming to stay with her and Greg and the boys for a while, but I don’t see that happening,” he said with his next exhale. “Everything Joan knows is here.”

“And Ted will be here,” Robin said softly.

“Exactly. Everything that made Ted, Ted is here. And right now she needs to feel as close to him as she can,” he glanced over at her, noticed a few tendrils of her hair had escaped their pins and were flying in the wind. He wondered, fleetingly, what she’d do if he caught one of those tendrils and wound it around his fingers, before mentally cursing himself.  _ Not the time, you stupid fuck.  _

“Do you want me to talk to Cecily? See if she can come over and help Joan fend Lucy off?” she was offering. 

“Can I think about it?” he asked ruefully.

“Absolutely,” she hastened to assure him. 

“How’s the agency?” he asked, hoping for a distraction. Anything to take his mind off the grief he could feel closing in on him. 

“Yeah, fine. I talked to Pat the day before yesterday, and she’s been handling things. Sam, Andy and Michelle have checked in with me occasionally and all seems to be going fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Any new cases?” 

Anything would do. Anything he could puzzle out and fix.

“Cormoran,” Robin said, her tone a warning. 

“Please? I need a distraction. I’m not ready to stop and think yet. Not about this. Not just yet.”

She sighed, but capitulated.

“Pat sent a call to me yesterday. And after speaking with the client, I took the case,” she began. “The woman’s name is Sheila Penn and she’s asked us to find the biological father of her son so that he can sign the paperwork that will allow her husband to formally adopt him.”

“That’s a new one,” he said as he ground his cigarette out under his shoe. 

“Yeah, it seemed interesting.”

“What did she tell you about him?” he asked, guiding her toward the wide stone staircase that would take them into the town proper. 

“His name’s Brock Mayes.”

Cormoran snorted, “Brock.”

“Hush. And he was nineteen, almost twenty when the baby was born. He signed the paternity paperwork in the hospital, but when the baby was nine months old he was arrested on drug charges, and she refused to let him come back home. She didn’t want to risk her son being taken away,” Robin added. 

“Smart lady.”

“Exactly. Even at eighteen,” her tone sounded admiring. “Anyway, she says she told him he’d be welcome to see the baby, Austin, anytime, as long as he could let her know in advance, but she never heard from him again.”

“Any child support?”

“None. He appears to have dodged all attempts and she thinks that may be what’s happening now. She said the courts have tried to find him but nothing.”

“Well it’s not exactly like they try hard. They probably sent a letter to his last known address and left it at that,” he scoffed. 

“Likely so. But she and her husband, Eliott, really want to complete the adoption because she’s pregnant and they want Austin to have the same last name as his sibling,” Robin finished. 

“How old is Austin now?” he asked. 

“Seven.”

“Yeah, right about the age he’d start to wonder,” he mused out loud, familiar with the feelings a child would experience in that situation. “Got any leads?”

“A few. But they’ll keep,” she said as they turned into Joan and Ted’s lane. “I think we should stay the rest of the week,” she said suddenly, turning to face him. 

He tilted his head curiously, brows lowering in question.

“I just…Well…” she squinted and turned her face away, looking down the street toward the minivan coming toward them. “I think you need some time. With Joan. Here at home. And you’re meant to pick up…” she trailed off. He knew she didn’t want to mention Ted’s ashes.

“What about you?” he didn’t disagree, but he didn’t want her to leave either. He knew her presence was the only thing keeping him steady and he wasn’t quite ready to be on his own. 

“I’ll stay,” she said quietly. “If you want me to.”

“I do.”

_ *** _

They spent the afternoon raising endless toasts to Ted in The Victory. Toasts to Joan. To Lucy. To Cormoran. To Adam and Luke and Jack. 

The toasts seemed endless and Cormoran drank to them all. 

Robin sat sipping her club soda and lime, stealthily supplied by Nick. “Gotta keep a full drink in front of you if you don’t want someone to buy you a round.”

“I couldn’t refuse?” she asked. 

“Not a chance,” he said cheerily. “They’d know something was up and you’d be badgered to bits. Tight group, these Cornish. You want to keep the pregnancy a secret, keep a full drink,” he finished with a wink, prompting a laugh from her. 

She took it upon herself to make sure Cormoran ate something substantial, not that he’d been hard to persuade, and as the afternoon had fallen into evening, she’d helped Lucy bundle Joan into her minivan for the brief ride back to her home, before returning to the pub to find Cormoran sitting with his friend Dave Polworth, a short but thin man with ginger hair and dark brown eyes that carried a twinkle as she joined them in their corner, where they were nursing their drinks.

“Ah, Robin,” Cormoran said as she took a chair across from him. “You’ve met Chum haven’t you?” His eyes were beginning to take on the glassy sheen she knew indicated he was good and pickled, and his voice was just starting to slur, reminding her of the first time she’d ever seen him drunk. 

He’d told her, “Y’re a very nice girl,” multiple times throughout the evening, while eating kebabs, explaining what a kairos moment was, telling her about his boxing career and then stumbling back to the office. She now felt the same simultaneous urge to laugh and cry as she had when he’d told her about his kairos moment with Charlotte and then immediately drunkenly apologized for repeatedly cursing in front of her. Though, this time, she felt more comfortable offering him support and sympathy. 

“I have, yes,” she smiled at him before turning to the man on her left. “It’s Dave, right?”

“Right in one. Get you a drink?” he asked, motioning to her empty glass. 

“Oh, no. Thanks. I just finished my last before heading back to Cecily’s and thought I’d check on our guy here.”

“How ‘bout you, Diddy? Another?” 

Cormoran glanced at Robin, who very slightly shook her head, before tilting it toward the door. “Nah mate. Think I’m finished too,” he stood, clapping Polworth heartily on the back. Polworth, for all his skinny spareness, didn’t budge a whit. 

“Gotta make sure R’bin ‘ere gets back ta Cec’ly’s.”

“Don’t be a stranger, eh Diddy?” the smaller man said as he and Cormoran executed the odd male handshake hug hybrid. 

“R’bin’s keeping me ‘ere ‘til Saturday, Chum. We’ll get together again ‘fore I go.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Polworth said, weaving a bit, before turning to Robin, “Lovely to meet you, Robin. I’ve heard a lot about you. Nice to put a face to the name.”

“Likewise,” she replied as she accepted the air kiss he leaned in to give her, though this was a bit of a fib. She knew who Polworth was, but most of what she knew about him came from Ilsa’s stories about their childhood in Cornwall.

“Night, Chum,” Cormoran called, before he gave a wave to the pub at large, most of whom lifted their glasses to him as he placed his hand in the small of her back and guided her toward the door. 

They stepped out into the cool air and she tucked her hands into the pockets of her jacket as she waited for Cormoran to dig out his cigarettes and light one. She glanced up, as they began walking leisurely toward Cecily’s home, at the slight crescent of a moon above them, surrounded by a multitude of stars.

“I always forget what it’s like to see so many stars in the sky when I’m in London,” she mused quietly. 

“Me too,” he said, smoke wreathing his head. “When I was a teenager, Chum, Ilsa, Gwen and I, and a bunch of our friends, used to camp out on the beach below Ted and Joan’s. We’d have a bonfire and tents and Dave would always smuggle some of his dad’s beer. I usually bought mine,” he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I’ve looked like I was forty since I was thirteen, you know.” She snorted a laugh, just as he’d wanted. 

“Anyway,” he chuckled, then went on. “We’d roast sausages and marshmallows and just,” he rolled the hand holding his fag in the air as though searching for the right word. “Caper about like mad. Lucy would come down for the bonfire, but refused to actually sleep on the beach. Too prim,” he added with an eye roll, provoking another chuckle. 

His face turned serious, “After everyone else had gone to sleep though, I’d lay in my sleeping bag, with my head sticking out of the tent, and just stare at the stars. It never failed to fascinate me that everyone in England was looking at the same stars, the same moon,” he sighed softly. “The same clouds. You know?” he didn’t wait for her response, but she nodded anyway. “And I’d wonder, is she looking at the same moon? The same clouds? The same stars?”

“Your mother?” she asked quietly, though she sensed she was wrong.

“No. My…” he stopped, glancing away and exhaling smoke in a long thin stream.

“Person?” she finished for him. 

“Yeah,” he said so softly she wouldn’t have heard him if she hadn’t been watching his face.

“But then, I met Charlotte, and Mum died, and I went into the Army, and the stars, the moon, the clouds?” He tilted his head toward her. “They don’t look much different in Afghanistan really. Stars are stars and the moon is the moon and it doesn’t matter who else is looking at them. It doesn’t matter that someone on the other side of the ocean might be watching the same shooting star as you, or laying on their back, blowing into the air, pretending their breath is what’s making the clouds move so fast. Because at the end of the day, we’re not really connected to each other. We’re all just stars, Ellacott,” he looked at her with ruined eyes. “We’re all of us alone. Sometimes we’re bright. Sometimes we’re hidden behind clouds. But we’re always alone nonetheless,” he lowered his head, swiped a thumb under his eye. “Just like Joan is now.”

They’d arrived at Cecily’s lane and as they slowed to a halt, she turned to face him. “You’re not alone, Strike. You’re not, and you haven’t been for at least five years now.” With that, she rose onto the balls of her feet and kissed his cheek, just above his stubble, and then with a soft, “Goodnight,” and a wave, she walked to the door. 


	17. I Don't Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is [I Don't Mind](https://open.spotify.com/track/7aYkfqdNw6MQlcQimdcdF4?si=2SQGqnOKRWmVBlK7JSzLqQ)

_Yell the sadness loud  
Throw it up against the wall  
See what stays then go and put it on  
It keeps you wild_

The rest of the week was spent with Cormoran and Lucy helping Joan sort out the rest of the details that death demands. 

They’d established a tentative routine, with Cecily and Robin arriving just after breakfast to help Joan and Lucy go through the items belonging to Ted that Joan had decreed needed to be gone through while Cormoran did the hauling and lifting with Dave Polworth assisting as they worked on setting the shed in the garden, that Ted used as a workshop for his garden and such, into some semblance of order. In the evenings, he and Robin would walk through St. Mawes, talking about the consults she’d done that day, or emails she’d received from clients. She still refused to let him see anything pertaining to their work, but she didn’t hesitate to discuss it with him. And while it was frustrating, he also knew that she was working to give him space to be present with his family and he appreciated it. 

They were leaving tomorrow afternoon, to head back to London. Lucy and the boys would be remaining behind to continue helping Joan settle into a life without Ted, and he was grateful for that, but he was ready to leave. He was beginning to feel as though he couldn’t breathe, though he didn’t know if that was because of grief or just because he wasn’t used to the way time moved in St Mawes. 

Either way, they were leaving tomorrow and stopping in Yeovil on their way back to follow up on a lead that Robin had turned up on SD, which was short for Sperm Donor, which was the rather unsavory nickname he’d come up with for Brock Mayes. She’d found mention of a man with the name Brock Mayes playing in a band on Facebook and he knew she was hoping that she’d be able to track him down using that. At the very least find someone who knew who he was and could confirm that he was the correct Brock Mayes. 

He was standing outside, at the end of Joan’s lane, waiting for Robin to join him for their evening walk. He’d lit his fag the moment he’d stepped out of the house, partially in defiance of Joan’s not so subtle prodding that he needed to quit, but also as a means to soothe his irritation with Lucy, who, after so many days in such close quarters, was beginning to grate. 

Hearing shoes hitting the pavement he glanced up to find Robin walking toward him wearing navy exercise leggings with white stripes running up the outside side of her legs and a cream sweater that bagged around her in a way that shouldn’t have seemed stylish, but did. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail that bobbed as she moved and her face was flushed with exertion from her walk. 

“Where are we going today?” she asked as she reached him.

Over the last few evenings they’d wandered through various spots that Cormoran had deemed necessary for her to know. She’d been to a few of them on her last visit, but seeing them through Cormoran’s eyes was something else entirely. He talked about memories and things that had happened here or there, sharing where he’d had his first kiss, with a girl named Gracie Linwood, while on a school trip to St. Mawes Castle, and where he and Ilsa used to walk when he’d come home to visit during his uni years, joking about how both of them had been so absolutely sure they knew better than the adults in their lives about how the world worked, and how to make it better. “Of course we were idiots playing at being smart,” he’d chuffed out a smoke laced laugh that had wreathed his head.

“Thought I’d show you where Chum and Ilsa and I used to have our bonfires,” he said quietly. “If that’s alright.”

“I’d love to see it,” she replied softly, stepping nearer to him. 

“Follow me,” and he turned and led her into Ted and Joan’s backyard, slipping through an opening in the waist high stone hedges covered in Queen Anne’s Lace and bluebells that edged their yard. “Watch your step,” he cautioned her as she stepped down onto rough stone stairs. 

“I’m more worried about your step than mine,” she chuckled. 

“Har har,” he deadpanned. 

“The truth’s the truth, mate,” she said with a shrug. 

They lapsed into silence as they slowly made their way down the fifty or so steps to the dunes below, where she discovered a massive mound of wood piled against the side of the cliff they’d just come down. Cormoran tipped his chin toward it, as he saw her looking at it. “Chum keeps it stocked. He comes down every week or so and cleans up the driftwood that comes in with the tide and adds more when a bonfire is planned. We’ll end up burning all of that tonight.”

“Tonight? We’re attending a bonfire tonight?” she grinned with excitement.

“Tradition,” he shrugged. “Chum suggested it yesterday while you were in the loo at The Victory and I thought you’d enjoy it. It’s a nice way to spend your final night.”

“How nice! I’ve never been to a bonfire on the beach.”

“Figured as much. And I owe you,” he said softly. 

“Bollocks. You owe me nothing, Strike,” she swatted his arm. “Do we need to get anything? Chairs? Food? Drink?”

“Nope. Chum, Penny, Gwen and a few others will bring what we need.”

“That’s kind of them,” she smiled softly. 

“How about a walk while we wait then?” he held his arm out and she slipped hers through the crook of his elbow, turning with him to walk toward the open beach, away from the cliff face and the house nestled above it. 

Robin gazed out over the water, tilting her head so that the side of it rested against the side of Cormoran’s shoulder as they meandered along the wet packed sand, the lights of St. Mawes curving out in front of them as dusk fell and the stars began to wink from behind the clouds. 

“I loved growing up in Masham. The smallness of it. The way everyone knows everyone. A proper village community,” she said, feeling rather than seeing his nod of understanding. “But I think I could have been happy here as well,” she glanced up at him. “It’s so peaceful. It’s a wonder you ever wanted to leave. Hearing the waves every day, looking out the window and seeing nothing but water and sky. Seems like the most peaceful way to live.”

“Idyllic, without a doubt. But I’m a town man at heart. Cornwall is my roots, but London is the blood in my veins.”

“Isn’t it hard to be away from your roots though?” she asked curiously. “When I first moved to London I missed Masham terribly. I was happy to be with Matt, because he was safe and familiar,” she qualified. “And it felt like the two of us were a team, trying to conquer London, but it took months before I finally felt safe enough to travel on my own without getting lost in London,” she laughed. “Of course, working with you helped.”

He arched a brow curiously, “Surveillance and stakeouts on dark lanes will do that for you I suppose. But I never knew you were nervous in London.”

“Of course not. I worried you’d fire me,” she joked. 

“Bollocks,” he nudged her with his elbow, accidentally grazing the side of her breast as he did, and trying not to register the softness while also being unsure whether he should apologize. He’d tried always to be mindful of her personal space, but it had been shrinking lately, as they’d become closer. Touching her now wasn’t as significant a thing as it used to be, before her divorce, before he’d told her she was his closest friend. Though he still tried to avoid touching her recklessly, and never without thinking about it. Before he could formulate words to apologize for his forwardness though, she was saying, “Seriously though, I was terrified on my own in London at first and I’d go to bed at night missing the quiet of Masham. But now I struggle to sleep in the quiet,” she laughed at herself, shaking her head. 

“That about sums it up,” he said, choosing not to apologize, since she hadn’t seemed to notice. “London is home, but Cornwall is home in a different way.”

“Cornwall is an escape hatch,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her, and he wondered if she was still struggling with being in Masham, in the wake of the failure of her marriage. He remembered what she’d said about her room being a cage for her during the period after she’d been attacked and that when she’d returned home after leaving Matthew she hadn’t been able to stay because of that. He wondered, and not for the first time, if her trip to Cornwall during those days had indeed been her seeking a way to be closer to him, as Joan had said and as he’d suspected when she’d told him about her trip earlier in the year. 

He shook his head slightly, as though to shake away those thoughts, just as a piercing whistle filled the air and he glanced back over his shoulder, to see Polworth and another old mate Rocky Sommer beginning to stack driftwood around kindling near the foot of the cliff below Ted and Joan’s home. 

“We should head back. They’ll have that roaring in no time,” he laughed, nodding his head back toward the cliff face. 

“Roaring?” Robin asked, sounding slightly alarmed.

“Roaring,” he nodded, chuckling at her wide eyed glance of excitement. 

He turned around and headed back toward the group that was now gathering on the beach. Robin turned with him, slipping her arm through his again, this time without invitation and he tried to push away the thread of excitement that sparked like a fuse in his chest. He’d prefer to avoid the explosion if he could. At least until she was free of her obligation to Nick and Ilsa and Peanut. 

Robin was welcomed heartily by Polworth and his wife Penny, who took her from person to person, introducing her to one and all and explaining her presence to each small group of people as though to make it clear that she was to be welcomed with impunity, simply because of her connection to one of their own. She was caught up in a hug and kisses by Gwennifer, who offered Robin a bottle of cider, which Robin declined, from her massive cooler and stood as a bulwark or Robin’s other side, helping Penny complete the introductions to those gathered with her. 

Each person was kind and welcoming, treating her as though she’d always been amongst them. Robin was absolutely certain she’d never be able to remember any of the names that had been rattled off to her, but she was enjoying herself immensely

“Why haven’t they lit it yet?” she asked Gwennifer, who was jeering at Dave good naturedly, chanting “Light it! Light it,” before answering Robin’s question. 

“It’s a tradition. Davey will explain in a mo’” she said, jerking her chin toward Dave, who somehow, despite his small stature and spare build, seemed to command the crowd’s attention as he stepped to the side of the bonfire. The conversations around Robin were beginning to quiet to hushed whispers and a ribbon of excited anticipation, tinged with somberness, began to infuse the air.

“Can I have your attention please?” called Dave as he clinked his beer bottle to another to create a chime, imitating the tapping of a fork to a glass. He waited until the last of the whispered conversations quieted and the assembled gathered closer together. Robin saw Lucy and her three sons standing close by Cecily, who winked at Robin around the waiting wood. 

“Tonight, as is tradition, we light a symbolic pyre in honor of one of our own who left us too soon. Ted Nancarrow,” he raised his bottle and recited, in a voice that carried like that of a great orator, but retained the softness of grief,

_ “He watched _

_ A Cornish chough, _

_ Flying so Cornish high, _

_ Over Cornish cliffs, _

_ In a Cornish sky, _

_ All Cornish observations, _

_ Made by his Cornish eye. _

_ He watched _

_ The Cornish sun, _

_ Masked by a Cornish cloud, _

_ He thought his Cornish thoughts, _

_ His Cornish thoughts were loud, _

_ He viewed the Cornish landscape, _

_ And he felt so Cornish proud. _

_ He watched _

_ The Cornish waves, _

_ Roll into the Cornish bay, _

_ He saw the Cornish sunset, _

_ At the end of another Cornish day, _

_ For he was forever Cornish, _

_ And forever Cornish he will stay... _

“To Ted Nancarrow, the very definition of a Cornishman.” 

There were shouts of, “Ted Nancarrow,” as all around Robin bottles, cups and cans were lifted in toast before being carried to lips. She swiftly scanned the crowd, looking for Cormoran, and found him standing, holding a piece of driftwood with an end wrapped in cloth of some kind. Polworth strode to him and struck a lighter and holding it to the cloth, creating a torch that Cormoran then held to the bottom of the mound of driftwood, catching the kindling before handing it to Lucy who, surrounded by her sons, bent and held the torch to the unlit kindling on her side of the “pyre”, before passing it back to Cormoran who held it aloft as he watched the kindling catch and light the wood piled around it, before turning and hurling the flaming wood into the waves.

As he turned back from the water he met her eyes across the flames now roaring to life between them and in his eyes she saw the grief and love and immense sadness she’d known would come. Her heart twisted painfully at the sight of this man laid so bare before her. She made her way around the bonfire, heading toward him, her eyes captured in his gaze, broken only when she was hailed by Penny, who subsided at the small shake of Robin’s head. 

She approached him slowly, and he turned, his back to the crowd and fire, staring out to sea. She had the fleeting thought that in a different time he’d have made a dashing ship’s captain, with his stern face and forbidding air. His men would have scurried to obey his orders and his wife would have delighted in his attentions. She shook the rambling thoughts away though, as she slipped her hand into his, saying nothing as she stood beside him, offering only support and comfort as he struggled to marshal his feelings. As he had before, at the start of their journey, she felt him shift his hand slightly, threading his fingers through hers. She responded to the gesture with a squeeze. 

“My mom told me, when my grandmother died, that grief is just love that has nowhere to go. She told me to take the love that I felt for my grandmother and use it to love those who remained behind the way Grammy would have. With an open and generous heart,” she looked up at him, her eyes filling with tears, “I can’t take the grief away, Cormoran, but I can remind you to love the way Ted would want you to love. Honor his memory and the lessons he taught you with love and he’ll always be with you.”

He closed his eyes and she saw a tear, glimmering in the reflected firelight, roll down his cheek before he reached up to knuckle it away. She released his hand and stepped into his body, encircling him with her arms and squeezing gently before releasing him and meeting his eyes, “I’m here if you need me. Don’t forget that. You’re not alone,” she reminded him, and with a nod she stepped away, walking slowly back to the fire and rejoining Penny and her friends. 

She kept Cormoran in sight until he turned away from his contemplation of the sea and rejoined the assembly, regaining his good spirits and retreated behind the familiar mask he wore from day to day. He talked and laughed and swigged beer and whiskey from bottles and cups, clapping friends on shoulders and backs as he made his way around to each grouping of people, thanking them for coming and spending a few moments chatting with each. 

An hour or so into the fire he finally made his way to where she was standing, with Penny and Gwennifer, listening to their chatter about church goings on and the school their children were enrolled in. She’d had nothing to add to the conversation, not being one of their parishioners, nor a mother, but had been happy to stand and chuckle at their often hilarious gossip while once again concealing the fact that she wasn’t drinking alcohol by drinking from a red plastic cup. He approached and interrupted with a nod at each, “Gwennie, Penny, “ as they snickered at his intentional rhyming of their names. “I’m stealing this one away for a mo’,” he shook his head at their protests and tugged her firmly along, “She’s my guest, you daft harpies.”

“Just don’t go into the shadows with him Robin, darling. He’s a wicked way with the shadows,” Gwennifer called with a lurid wink as he guided Robin away from the fire. 

“What did she mean by that? ‘A wicked way with the shadows?’” she wondered aloud, looking back over her shoulder suspiciously at the ladies.

“She’s just being cheeky,” he said with an obvious air of innocence. 

She gave a hum of disbelief, “I’m not so sure about that,” she chuckled, ducking his arm as he tried to lay it across her shoulders. “Was she insinuating that you were going to try to have your wicked way with me?” she teased before she thought the words through. 

She watched in a state of aroused confusion as he tilted his head and swept her body with his eyes, which were dark and shadowed in the firelight. “She was insinuating that I have experience in the shadows, which she would well know since she’s the one who taught me where the best places to ‘insinuate’ were down here.” But he took a step back, raising his hands, palms facing her, and said, “You’re safe with me though. I’m not going to sweep you away into the shadows and do anything wicked. I just thought you might like to say good night to Cecily, she’s heading back home and asked me to let you know she’ll leave the key under the mat.”

“Oh, right,” Robin struggled to hide her disappointment. “I’ll go find her now.”

“She’s heading toward the steps, so I’d head that way,” he suggested with a nod in that direction. 

“Gotcha. I’ll be back in a mo’.” And she turned toward the steps, grateful for the momentary privacy so she could blink away the tears of embarrassment that were threatening to fall upon realizing that he’d apparently given no thought to sweeping her into the shadows, much less having his wicked way with her. He’d been so tall and commanding and arrestingly sexy this week, guiding her around his hometown and showing her his favorite places. He’d opened up in ways she’d never dreamed he would, sharing his memories and stories from his childhood and prompting her to share hers as well. 

She’d gotten lost, she realized, in a fantasy in which she’d forgotten that she and Cormoran weren’t a couple and that he wasn’t attracted to her at all. She was all too aware that she was far from his type, but she’d thought she’d caught him a few times since she’d left Matthew, watching her with an intensity she didn’t know how to describe as anything other than sexual interest. She’d noticed his eyes lingering on her lips at times and they’d certainly begun to spend more time together. Though, she granted, that had come about as a result of her staying with Nick and Ilsa at the beginning of her estrangement from Matthew. Cormoran was already a frequent dinner guest at their house so her staying with them for a brief period had only begun to erode some of the walls they’d erected between them. 

But the lines between friends and romance had blurred for her she realized and now, she wasn’t sure how to unblur them. She was no longer able to deny that she was falling in love with her partner and best mate. Which was inconvenient because as he’d just made clear, there was no way he’d be interested in starting a relationship with her. Not only was she his business partner and best mate, but she was also pregnant, and no man alive would feel comfortable entering into a relationship with a woman who was carrying a baby that wasn’t his. 

She reached the stairs and saw Cecily halfway at the top already, “Cecily,” she called. “Wait up!”

Cecily paused and turned back, smiling as Robin rushed up the stairs to reach her. “You didn’t have to come all this way. You were having a lovely time. I didn’t mean to interrupt it.”

“It’s OK. I think I’m ready to turn in anyway,” Robin said.

Cecily glanced at her watch. “But it’s early yet, darling.”

“I know,” she started, but Cecily cut across her, “Did something happen?”

“Nothing other than me making a complete tit of myself with Cormoran,” she mumbled. 

“How so?”

“When he came to find me to let me know you were leaving, Gwennifer joked that I shouldn’t let him pull me into the shadows and when I asked him about it it seemed as though he was about to do just that,” she paused.

“I see,” Cecily breathed. 

“And so I made a joke about him having his wicked way with me and he looked me up and down then backed away from me and said I didn’t need to worry about that. So I’d rather not go back and embarrass myself further.”

“Would you have let him?” Cecily asked. 

“Let him what?” Robin asked truculently, though she knew what Cecily was asking.

“Have his wicked way with you?”

Robin sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear before slipping her arm through Cecily’s and the climb up the rest of stairs with her, “I’m not his type Cec. Trust me.” Even to herself her voice sounded full of despair.

“Why do you say that?” Cecily pressed. 

“Cecily,” she said impatiently. “He’s dated women the likes of Charlotte, and models and gorgeous women and I’m nothing like them and never could be.”

“Exactly, darling,” Cecily paused and turned to look down at the crowd still gathered on the beach, “The man I’m looking at right now isn’t interested in models and Charlotte bloody Campbell.”

Robin glanced over her shoulder, spotting Cormoran immediately, standing hip shot near the place she’d left him, his face turned in the direction of the stairs, but he was too far away for her to determine if he was actually watching her.

“That’s a man who’s interested in a woman with a big heart and a gentle way about her. He needs someone with steady and firm, but gentle hands to hold his heart,” Cecily patted her hand where it still rested inside her elbow. “You should make a move, darling. See what happens. Who knows, maybe you’ll both find something you weren’t expecting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem Polworth recites is called His Cornish Eye and was written by Clive Blake. I thought it sounded very like Ted.


	18. Green Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that started it all. 
> 
> At least the last half.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by the song Green Eyes by Joseph. You can find it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HFkOQsQQHAc).

The next morning dawned clear and bright and Cecily pulled up to Ted and Joan’s house shortly past two. Robin had spent the morning and early afternoon with Cecily, breakfasting and lunching and enjoying the last few moments she had with this woman who had become almost like a mother to her in such a short amount of time. 

Cormoran, she knew, had spent the day at the crematorium, retrieving Ted’s remains. He’d chosen to do so alone, though she’d offered to drive him. She suspected he wanted just one more moment between him and his uncle, before bringing him back to the home that was now so bereft of him. 

Finally having loaded her things into the boot of Cecily’s car and done a final walk through of her room and the rest of the house and finding nothing she’d left behind, she’d climbed into the car for the drive to Joan’s house. She unloaded her belongings from the car and thanked Cecily for allowing her to impose once again. 

“You, my darling girl, are never an imposition. You’re welcome here any time. You’re mine now. And don’t you forget it,” Cecily had said as she’d patted Robin’s still flat stomach with a grin. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

“I will. I promise. You take care of yourself.”

“You do the same.”

With a wave and one last blown kiss, Cecily had tooted her horn in farewell as she’d backed out and drove away.

After Cecily had left, without her, the evening before, Robin had spent the remainder of the evening smiling and nodding during conversations she’d barely followed, her mind too full of Cecily’s assertion that Cormoran was indeed interested in her and that all she needed to do was let him know, for sure, that she was interested as well. However, she’d been unable to work up the courage to do so that evening and had walked back to Cecily’s accompanied by Gwennifer and her boyfriend Daveed, rather than Cormoran, who, disappointingly, had put up no fuss over her departure or who she’d walked with. She’d slept fitfully, dreams of fires and shadows and dark eyes glimmering with desire had chased her and she’d woken with a mild feeling of embarrassment for something she didn’t fully understand. 

As she turned and began towing her case, on top of which balanced the full thermos and a bag of snacks, down the Nancarrow’s lane, toward Cormoran’s BMW, looked out over the horizon, the sea birds wheeling and dancing in the air currents hovering above the waves, reminding her of the times she and her brothers had dashed up and down the beach in Skegness, tossing fried calamari and chips into the air and shrieking madly as the gulls had dived for the morsels. She could almost hear the shrieks and laughter echoing and felt a sudden longing to return to Skegness and childhood. 

She sighed as she leaned up against the BMW, before pulling out her phone and texting Cormoran to unlock the car for her. Moments later she heard the clicks of the locks and swiftly opened the boot and stowed her case inside, setting the thermos and food beside it for now and leaving it open before pulling her notebook from her handbag and skimming over her notes on Brock Mayes. 

She’d located a mention of a man by that name in a Facebook post from a woman named Enola Cookson a few nights before. She’d posted about having watched a band named Sex Hair at a pub in Yeovil called Quicksilver Mail, and since she knew from Sheila that the Brock she was trying to find had played guitar, she thought it was worth stopping in, since they’d be driving past Yeovil anyway, on their way back to London. 

She glanced up as she heard a sudden commotion at the door and watched as Cormoran was followed out of Joan’s house by not only Joan, but Lucy and Jack as well. Jack was carrying his uncle’s holdall over his shoulder and waited patiently for him at the foot of the stairs as Joan and Lucy took turns hugging and kissing him heartily. She saw the flash of Cormoran’s smile as he made, what she assumed, was a sly remark to Lucy, based on the way she swatted him on the arm before tugging him down for another tight hug and kiss. 

She closed her notebook and began toward the front porch. As she approached Joan turned to her and held out her arms, “Here she is,” she said with a warm smile as Robin bent to hug the much smaller woman, pulling away after receiving a kiss and a tight squeeze. “Don’t be a stranger. You’re welcome back anytime,” Joan said softly. “You make sure you take care of yourself, and our little Peanut. Promise?” 

Robin nodded solemnly and turned to accept Lucy’s hug and kiss. “Thank you so much for helping Stick this week,” she sniffled. “I really appreciate you being there for him through this.”

“It was no problem,” she whispered back. “Goodness knows he’s been there for me through a lot.”

“It still means the world to me.” Lucy clung like a barnacle for a moment, whispering, “He’s been quiet since coming back with Ted.” 

Robin felt her heart twist with compassion for him, even as she wondered what she could do to help him. 

As Lucy stepped away from her, Robin walked back down the stairs and slung an arm around Jack’s shoulders, bopped a kiss to his dark hair and said, “Let’s go get that loaded,” as they set off for the BMW. 

“You doing alright Jack?” she asked as the boy hoisted his uncle’s holdall into the back of the car. 

“Yeah,” he squinted against the sun. “I’m sad Gramps is gone, but I’m glad we got to come to Cornwall for a little while.” He looked off toward the sea. “It’s nice here.”

“I was just telling your uncle the same thing yesterday,” she grinned at him. “We don’t have the sea in Masham and I only ever got to see it every once in a while when my family went to our caravan in Skegness. But it was my favorite place to visit as a child.”

“I just wish I could stay here all the time,” Jack said quietly, his face carved in longing and sadness. 

She drew him into a hug. “I know, love. But you’re here now, and your Granny needs you for a little while longer. You’ll take care of her after your uncle and I leave, won’t you?”

There were times this child reminded her so much of Cormoran that it almost hurt, and this, with him standing there, dark eyes sad and grave with longing for a simple life by the sea, she was struck by how similar his expression was to the expression Cormoran had worn last night after the lighting of the bonfire. 

She squeezed him a few seconds longer before releasing him at the sound of Cormoran’s slightly uneven tread on the seashell and gravel drive. “Go and say goodbye to your uncle, darling,” she whispered. “We’ll see you soon, but he looks like he could use one last hug.” 

He nodded and jogged to Cormoran, who caught him in a tight hug before bending to whisper what she surmised was the same exhortation to take care of his mother and Granny that she’d just given him. The two of them together could have been father and son, so similar were their expressions and mannerisms and it made her wonder what it was about this family that bonded the uncles to their nephews so strongly. 

Cormoran watched Jack dash back into the house as he reached the BMW and opened the door. 

“You ready?” Robin asked.

“Yeah,” he grunted, before climbing in and fastening his seatbelt. 

She settled next to him, started the car and within moments the sea, and his childhood home, were behind them. 

A little over three hours later they arrived in Yeovil. Robin pulled to the kerb across the street from Quicksilver Letters and turned to Cormoran, who’d been characteristically quiet, but uncharacteristically not interested in his usual road trip snacks or tea. 

“Right. So, Enola is who we need to ask for,” she said as she turned the car off and unbuckled her safety belt. “It appeared, on Facebook, that she’s one of the bartenders, so I reckon it should be easy enough to get a word with her if we go in and order food.” He nodded climbing out of the car and leaning against it as he lit a fag. She gathered up her small handbag and notebook, and steeling herself against the feeling that something wasn’t quite right between them, she joined him and crossed the street. 

“I’ll stay here and finish my fag, you go in and grab us a table,” he said as they approached the yellowed brick, two story building. 

“Pint?”

“Am I breathing?” he grinned a grin that was just shy of usual easy grin.

“Should have known,” she chuckled and strode through the door he held open for her. 

Inside, the pub was cozily lit, with butter yellow walls and leather padded chairs and booths surrounding lacquered wood tables. There were only a few patrons, including a small white and brown terrier who was curled up at the feet of a gentleman who appeared to be in his late seventies. The terrier lifted his head from his paws as she passed him on her way to the bar. 

“Help you, luv?” the tousle haired bartender asked, while he wiped out a mug with a clean towel.

“I need a pint of,” she scanned the beers on tap, “Ruby and a water please? And two menus. My partner and I are passing through and we’re both famished.”

He passed her two menus with a smile, as he set the mug he’d been wiping under a tap and began pulling the pint she’d ordered. “Where you heading then?” he asked genially. 

“Oh. We’re on our way back to London, coming from St. Mawes,” she said as she glanced over the menu. “I think we’ll have one Beef Bourguignon and an order of fish and chips,” she requested just as she heard the bells hung on the door handle chime, indicating Cormoran had entered the pub. 

“Right-o. Will you be eating here at the bar or are you going to take a table?” he asked as he accepted back the menus she handed him. 

“Table,” Cormoran answered at her questioning glance as he came alongside her. He picked up the pint waiting for him on the bar, drinking almost half of it in one deep gulp.

“I ordered you the Beef Bourguignon. That alright?”

“Perfect. And for you?” he asked.

“Fish and chips,” she grinned. 

As they turned to select a table he asked quietly, “Did you ask about Enola?”

“Not yet. I thought it might be better to wait until we have our food.”

“Good plan,” he nodded as he pulled out a chair and lowered himself into it while she slid into the booth across from him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Yeah. Fine. Famished,” she chuckled. 

“That the baby or just you?”

“Bit of both?”

He nodded, sipping his pint and glancing around the room. 

They lapsed into silence, her sipping her water, him drinking his pint.

The other patrons were gathered around one large table, chatting happily, laughing about someone named Jimmy who’d apparently driven through his front yard while pissed out of his mind the evening before. She caught Cormoran’s eye and had to stifle a giggle that would give away that they were eavesdropping on the story. 

She heard the tapping of dog claws against the wood floor and glanced down to find that the terrier had come to visit their table, tired, apparently, of his owner and the boisterous company still laughing over the feckless Jimmy. 

“Well hello there, darling,” she cooed. “What’s your name?” she asked as the dog stood on his hind legs, his front paws coming to rest against the side of her thigh. She dropped her hand down so that he could sniff it, while looking at Cormoran to see his reaction to their visitor. He merely watched their canine visitor with an elevated eyebrow.

“That’s Farley. ‘E’s ‘armless,” called the elderly gentleman, with a voice that sounded like it’d been dragged over gravel on it’s way out of his throat. “Want me to call ‘im back?”

“Oh no! He’s a darling,” she answered as she stroked his head and scratched his ears. 

“You keep doing ‘at ‘e’ll be in your lap,” the raspy voiced gentleman laughed. 

“Just don’t check my bag when we leave,” she winked. “I promise you won’t find him there.”

She heard Cormoran huff a laugh at her joking and felt her chest warm. He’d been too quiet, too sad, on the drive. 

“Here you go,” said the barman as he brought their food to the table. “Need anything else?”

Cormoran nodded, looking at his plate, “I’ll have another pint and give the gentlemen over there another round on us. Put it on my tab.”

“Will do,” nodded the barman, before heading back to the bar, where he set about pouring a fresh round for them all. 

“This looks lovely,” Robin said, picking up a chip and popping it, whole, into her mouth. “Yours looks great.”

“It does.” He lifted a bite to his mouth and sampled it. “It is.”

And they both applied themselves to their meals as Farley hopped onto the seat booth beside her with very little encouragement and curled himself against her hip.

For the first time in the entire time he’d known her, Robin finished all of her chips, leaving none for him to cadge after he’d finished his own meal. 

His beef had been delicious and, as always, Robin’s company had been perfect. 

The older gentlemen at the table had cheered them and toasted their good health when they’d been brought their drinks, and Farley had stayed curled up against Robin. He glanced down and saw that the dog had gone so far as to lay his head on her leg and was looking at her with adoring eyes. 

He’d rarely felt such a kinship with an animal before.

The barman came to remove their plates and ask them if they needed anything else and this time Robin spoke up, “Yes actually. I wonder if you could tell me where I might find Enola Cookson?”

“She should be in for her shift any minute,” he said, tilting his head slightly in curiosity. “Can I ask what you want with our Enola?”

“I’m hoping she might be able to tell me how to reach Brock Mayes,” she answered. 

“Oh that’s easy enough. He plays with Sex Hair. He and Enola live just down the road,” he seemed to catch himself a little. “They aren’t in trouble are they?”

“No. Not at all,” Robin assured him. “We just need to speak with Brock on behalf of a client.” 

The pub door jingled and moments later a petite woman with masses of curling ginger hair and a pixieish face dashed around the corner toward the bar. “So sorry I’m late, Brian! The dog got loose and we had hell trying to track him down. Mongrel thinks we’re playing Tig.”

“He’s not a mongrel, darling. He’s just a baby,” soothed a deep voice, belonging to a very handsome man, nearly as tall as Cormoran, with sandy blond hair, broad shoulders and a charming grin. “He’s still just a puppy.”

Robin knew, without a doubt, that this was the man they were looking for. The picture Enola had posted had been grainy and dark, but the man in front of them was a more filled out version of the man in the picture Sheila had provided. He’d been just over twenty years old in Sheila’s picture, which put him at about twenty-seven now.

Just as she’d been about to introduce herself to Brock, the bartender, Brian, said, “Brock, I’m glad you came in. These two were just asking about you,” He jerked a thumb at Robin and Cormoran who were still seated. “Said they needed to talk to you about something for their client.”

“Oh?” Bryce turned to them with an expression of polite interest on his face. “Client?”

Robin stood, dislodging Farley and holding out her hand, “I’m Robin Ellacott and this is my partner, Cormoran Strike-”

“Cormoran Strike, what caught the Shacklewell Ripper?” crowed Farley’s owner, who, it was now obvious, had obviously been eavesdropping. 

“That’s us,” Cormoran nodded tightly, before turning back to Brock. “We’ve been sent by Shelia Penn.”

“Sheila Penn?” he sounded confused. 

“You’d have known her as Sheila Benson?” Robin supplied. 

“You mean Rosie?” he asked. 

Robin couldn’t confirm, since Shelia hadn’t seen fit to tell her that Brock would have known her by a different name, so she pulled out her phone and pulled up a picture she’d taken of the picture Sheila had provided. 

“Is this Rosie?” she asked, pointing at their client. 

“Yes,” he nodded, his eyes startled. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong. She’s fine. So is your son,” Cormoran stated baldly, earning a censorious glance from Robin. 

Brock lowered himself to a chair at the table beside the one Cormoran was still seated at, absently petting Farley as he jumped up to lay his front paws on Brock’s knees. 

“Last I heard of Rosie she was telling me she didn’t want anything more to do with me after I was arrested for having a couple ounces of weed on me at the wrong time. I tried to reach out to her a few times after but never heard back, so I let it be. I moved here, met Enola and moved on. What does she need with me?” he asked directing the question to Robin who’d resumed her seat.

“Well, I can’t speak to the legalities, and I’m sure there are a few, child support not withstanding, but she’s gotten married and her new husband would like to adopt your son, but he can’t without your agreement. She’s been trying to track you down for a bit, but she says she can’t find any employment history, nor have the courts had any luck locating you,” Robin explained. 

Well, I’m not, technically employed, as such. I play with my band and we do well enough, so that, combined with a few odd jobs helping a friend of mine with roofing and such hereabouts, I’m not skint,” he shrugged. “Rosie’s married you say? That’s nice. He a nice bloke?” he asked. 

“He seems to be. She seems very happy,” Robin nodded. 

“Well, I’m sorry she’s had such a rough time finding me. I can promise it wasn’t deliberate. I want the boy to be happy. I want Rosie to be happy,” he smiled over at Enola, who was wiping the bar, clearly listening to the conversation. “Goodness knows I’m happy.”

He glanced back at Robin, “I met Enola about five years ago and it was love at first sight.”

“Oh hush, you tit,” Enola called out, without a bit of malice. “What’s he need to do to help Rosie?” she asked Robin.

“Well, should be easy enough. She just wants you to reach out to her. I’ve got her number and an email address here for you. And if you can give me your contact information, I’ll pass it along to her as soon as I get back to London. I know she mentioned wanting to try to get a health history so that Austin has that information as he grows up, but I think other than that, she just needs your signature on the paperwork.”

Enola brought him a pen and paper, along with a pint, as well as a fresh pint for Cormoran, who thanked her and told her he was ready to close out their tab. She nodded and after dropping a kiss on Brock’s head and nudging him with her hip, she walked back to the bar.

Brock scribbled his contact details down and passed them to Robin, who passed him Sheila/Rosie’s information. 

“I’d suggest waiting until tomorrow to contact her, just so I have the time to reach out to her and let her know we’ve found you,” Robin said, folding the paperwork with his information and tucking it into her notebook and then into her bag. “That gives her a little bit of warning, and you time to figure out what to say.”

“Not much to say,” he shrugged. “I’d have been there for the kid, but she never responded to me and I didn’t know what else to do. We were young and stupid, but I cared about her and I’m sorry for any trouble she’s had,” he sipped his pint. “I’m glad she found someone who wants to take care of her and Austin. He must be a good man.”

“Seems like,” Robin nodded, before looking at Cormoran, who’d stayed silent through almost the whole exchange. “You ready to get back on the road?” she asked. 

He nodded and picked up his pint and with a few gulps had finished it, then stood and shook Brock’s hand and threw a wave to Enola and the gentlemen at the table. “Have a good evening gentlemen. Ma’am.”

Robin smiled and rolled her eyes at him as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. “Meet you outside in a mo’,” she said as he passed her, before holding out her hand for Brock. “Thanks for talking with us. I hope everything works out.”

“I’m sure it will. Thank you for tracking me down. I’ll give her a call tomorrow morning, tell her around ten.”

“I will,” Robin said. 

  
  


It was 10:40pm when Robin turned onto her street. The moon was slightly obscured, by clouds streaming swiftly across the sky, as she put the car in park and unbuckled her seatbelt. Cormoran had insisted she drive back to her flat first and he’d drive himself back to his. 

“Thanks for coming with me Robin,” he said as he reached for the door handle. “I hope you get some rest. I know it was a long week.”

The ride back had been quiet, both of them lost in their thoughts. She’d spent the drive from Yeovil to London, thinking about the advice Cecily had given her, debating with herself over whether or not to take the risk and lay her feelings out for him.

“Wait.” She laid a hand on his arm, arresting his movement. “I need…to say something.” She swallowed, trying to dislodge the lump of anxiety that had suddenly clogged up her throat. 

He turned back to her, head tilted curiously, eyebrows raised in question, his dark eyes sharp. He waited quietly, watching as she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

“I like you,” she blurted, before burying her face in her hands with a groan. That was not how she’d wanted to say it. It sounded so…teenage.

“I’m sorry. What?”

She sighed and glanced up, “I like you. Romantically.” Then, to herself, “God…I don’t know how to fucking do this.”

“Wait…What?” he asked and she knew she was making a mess of it. 

She took a deep breath and plunged on.

“I have for a while now and I just never knew how to say anything, or if you were interested…But I do and I can’t help it,” she rushed on. “And honestly, at this point, I don’t want to, Cormoran. I just don’t,” she shook her head, continuing, “You are completely the opposite of everything I ever thought I’d ever be attracted to.” He made a sound…she heard it, but knew she had to keep going, or she wouldn’t finish, “And that’s just…wonderful, really…Because I know that it’s real. I know it’s not just because we work so well together, which is what I thought it was at first… or because you make me feel safe.”

Again, she laid her hand on his arm, “You do. Make me feel safe, I mean.” She could see his eyes widen, surprise dilating his pupils as the moon was unveiled momentarily by a cloud passing away from it, and her stomach suddenly cramped, the lump in her throat thickening even more. “I thought, maybe, you might feel the same way? And I know that this is really bad timing, with Ted and this,” she laid a hand on her still flat stomach. “But I keep noticing you watching me and can’t help wondering if you’re just as attracted to me as I am to you. But you’ve never said anything and I just…I need to know if you are,” she explained. “But it’s OK if you aren’t. Or if you need time. I can understand that. I just…” she paused, slightly panicky, the familiar taste of bile coating her tongue. 

She had the fleeting thought of how weird it would be to vomit for something other than morning sickness for once. 

“I want you. I want to be with you. And I think, maybe…” she couldn’t stop the word from rising at the end, as a question. “You want to be with me too.” 

He opened his mouth, about to speak. 

Barreling on she held up a hand to stay him. “Wait…I know you’re probably thinking about the business and how could this possibly be appropriate? How would we work together? Could we work together?” She was nodding with her words, convinced she was reading him correctly. “I thought so too. It worried me. But I think we can do it.”

She grasped his hand firmly as he shifted in his seat, clearly impatient but she wasn’t ready to hear the rejection she could feel coming. 

Maybe… “I know we can do it. Cormoran, I’m tired, all the time, and I’m hungry and I’m nauseated, God, constantly… and there will probably be mood swings and swollen ankles and goodness knows what else to look forward to, or dread,” she laughed mirthlessly. “Depending on your point of view I suppose. But the one thing I find myself thinking about over and over and over is how much I enjoy being near you. How much I want to know what it’s like to hug you without something dire having happened. But really, just, because. Sometimes I’ll be here, at home, fixing tea and think, I should call Cormoran. Because I just…I want to be with you. All the time.”

“Robin,” he started, his voice soft, but he subsided when she talked over him.

“I know this is sudden..but please say you’ll at least think about it.”

“You’re pregnant, Robin.” He said it kindly, gently, quietly. 

But she felt it like a blow. 

“I know. I know I am…Does it matter?” She could see where it might if it was someone other than his friends’ child…but it was Nick’s and Ilsa’s child. Not hers. Not some other man’s.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged helplessly. Frustratingly. “I just don’t know.”

“But...do you,” she swallowed the anxiety. “Care about me that way?” 

She suddenly felt like a teenager again. 

Maybe she should have asked Ilsa to pass him a fucking note. 

His eyes softened. And a small, wry smile touched his lips. “You know I do.”

“Then what’s the problem?” She pulled his hand to her face so that it cupped her cheek. 

Those eyes held hers again, before looking away. 

First down, then out the open window, and then, with a sigh, up at the ceiling of the car, as though toward the heavens. 

The silence spun out interminably it seemed. 

Her heart raced, waiting for him to speak. 

But he didn’t. 

It was becoming clear that he wouldn’t.

Maybe couldn’t.

She felt her face fall. 

All her hope fleeing. 

Who would want to start a relationship with a pregnant woman? 

Even if there wasn’t going to be a child to raise at the end. 

Who’d want to deal with the fluctuations that come with pregnancy?

The cravings. 

The moodiness. 

The tears. 

The panic. 

The changes to her body.

The labor.

Would she even get her body back?

Even though the baby belonged to their best friends, he’d still have to deal with her being pregnant and the resultant emotional upheavals, the health issues, the changes that were already taking place in her. 

And he’d always been clear that he’d never been interested in having children of his own, so obviously he’d never want to be with a pregnant woman?

She felt the tears welling and turned away, hoping to make an exit before he could see them. 

“Robin.” She could tell, from the way he said her name, so softly, he’d seen. 

She turned back. 

“It’s OK,” she smiled wetly, “I do this a lot nowadays.”

He chuckled. Started to speak again. 

“You don’t have to say it,” she stopped him. “I understand. I do.” She dredged up a smile. “And I’m sorry I’ve put you in this position. I’ll try to forget about it. Like it never happened.” 

He reached for her, as though to offer comfort, but she drew back. “You can’t…,” she swallowed thickly, holding out a hand. “Don’t hug me right now. It’ll only encourage the hormones.” 

It was a poor joke, but he gave her a chuckle anyway, playing along. 

“I’m going to go now.” She opened the car door and climbed out as quickly as she could, turning back to look at him over the top of the car as he climbed out on his side. “I have a doctors appointment with Ilsa and Nick tomorrow morning…We get to hear the heartbeat.” She smiled, eyes still stinging with tears she was trying to hold back. It would be lovely to hear this little ones heartbeat and to see Nick and Ilsa so happy. She knew it would be a beautiful moment. 

“I think I’m just going to take the rest of the day as well. If that’s OK with you?”

“Of course…Anything you need. But Robin, I…”

“No. Just…Let’s leave it here. OK?” She tilted her head, silently begging him to acquiesce. “We’ll just leave it alone, for now. And we’ll just,” She shrugged. “Go on. Alright?” 

She gave a firm nod, as though he’d answered affirmatively. 

Patted the top of the car. Twice. 

Tugged her keys from the front pocket of the handbag slung over her shoulder. 

And turned, reaching up with brisk movements to swipe away the tears that had finally fallen as she’d looked down to find the key to her flat on it’s ring.

Crossed the street. 

Trying not to hear Cormoran shutting the passenger side door of the car.

Trying desperately to hold on just a few moments longer.

Nearly gasping to keep the sobs from erupting.

Put the key in the lock. 

Turned it.

Knob twisting.

Door opening. 

Door closing.

Her back slid down the door, keys jingling as they fell from her hand, until her bottom met the floor.

And there, in the entrance of her little flat, where so many happy memories had already been made, she sobbed over the broken pieces of a heart trampled by her own choices.


	19. Duet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by the song [Duet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aq8Zqb0q6fI) by Penny & Sparrow.

Eyes on the door his partner had just disappeared behind, he closed the drivers door he’d just opened and started across the street, determined to knock and correct her absolutely incorrect assumptions that he’d been uninterested in her. 

Now that she’d laid her cards on the table, he’d discovered that he couldn’t hold back any longer. It had taken everything in him to allow her to finish her thoughts without dragging her across the seats and into his lap so he could plunder her mouth the way he’d yearned to for years now. 

All thoughts of waiting until her pregnancy was over had fled. There was no way he could go on, knowing she was just as wound up over him as he was over her. 

He lifted his fist and knocked firmly on the blue door, hearing a gasp and a rustling, before the door slowly eased open. 

She was still wearing her jacket and her handbag was still around her body, but her eyes were swollen and red, as her hands flew up to sweep the tears, still welling, away. 

“Cormor…” she began. 

“I’m in love with you,” he interrupted, before looking away, shaking his head in defeat. “I’ve struggled with it, the way I feel for you. How much I feel for you, because I was positive that you didn’t feel the same way, that you never would. You were with Matthew and then getting divorced, and then, before I could get any measure of your feelings and even think about asking you if you might, possibly, feel the same way, you were dating David, and then suddenly you were volunteering to be a surrogate and now you’re pregnant and I just…” he dragged a hand through his hair. “God Robin. I’ve been in love with you for so long I’ve forgotten what it feels like to not be in love with you.”

She stood in front of him, still crying, but with her hand over her mouth as though to stifle a gasp. 

He reached up and wiped a fresh tear away with his thumb, cupping her cheek as he’d done in the car. “I’m sorry.”

She laughed, embarrassed, “Ignore the tears. I seem to do it constantly these days,” she shrugged as he chuckled quietly. “Um…Do you want to come in?” she asked, before giving a faint, and watery, embarrassed laugh. “I can make tea.”

He nodded and stepped all the way inside. She backed away as though to let him go past her, but he stopped her, with a hand on her arm. “I’d love some tea. But first,” he stepped into her, wrapping an arm around the back of her waist and lowering his forehead to rest against hers. “I’m going to kiss you now,” he informed her in a near whisper. “That alright?”

Her eyes fluttered closed as her chin tilted up in answer. 

Her lips against his were hot, nearly feverishly so. He brushed his against hers lightly, trying not to devour her in swift, starving gulps the way he wanted to. But then she sighed, quietly, so sweetly, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

He plunged a hand into her hair, anchoring his fingers in the silkiness as he walked her backward until her back pressed against the wall. 

Her lips trembled beneath his, inviting him to go deeper. He licked the seam of her lips as he pressed the pad of his thumb against her chin lightly, so that she parted her lips, giving him access to get a full taste of her. Sweet and warm and perfectly Robin. 

Her hands slid, from where they’d been grasping his coat lapels, up and into his hair, fingers slipping into his curls as he plundered her mouth and pressed his body completely against hers, from chest to thigh, pressing her back into the wall. 

She was overwhelmed by him, but it was intoxicating. He tasted of smoke and some flavor she’d never tasted before, but it was delicious. The scent of him filled her senses, as his hand tilted her face slightly away from him so that he could trail his lips down her neck in gentle, nipping bites that his tongue soothed. The feel of him against her, after so long without another body to rest against, was almost enough to make her whimper. He was so firm and yet, incredibly gentle. 

He dragged his lips further down her neck, gliding along the collar of her shirt, grazing her collarbone with the edge of his teeth, making her shiver. 

Her hands tightened in his hair and he groaned quietly as she tugged him back up, meeting his mouth with hers in a series of biting, teasing kisses that left her panting and breathless. He nipped her bottom lip between his own, sucking it lightly before slipping his tongue against hers for only a moment before pulling away to kiss the tip of her nose, then to rest his forehead against hers again. His breaths came in almost pants, striking her cheeks. 

He struggled to rein in his need for her. He didn’t want to make love to her for the first time against a wall. He desperately wanted to take his time, uncovering white freckled skin and finding just the right way to make her gasp and moan under his hands and mouth. 

“I could use that tea now,” he whispered. 

“Tea?” she asked, dazedly. 

“You offered me tea, Ellacott,” he chuckled huskily. 

“Oh,” she panted. “Um…”

“What a terrible hostess,” he teased, as he kissed her once again. Her lips clung to his softly, following his as he drew away again. 

“Tea,” she gasped. 

“Unless you’d rather…” He kissed her temple, brushing her hair away from her ear. 

“I’d…rather…” she panted again, as he kissed the rim of her ear, before investigating the softness of the skin behind it with his lips. 

“You’d rather, what, Ellacott?” he asked, sliding a hand up from where it had come to a rest against her hip and allowing it to graze the side of her breast, trying not to chuckle at the jerk of her body against his fingers. He could feel she was wound tight and he would have assured her she wasn’t alone, but he didn’t want to rush her through this. 

He didn’t want to rush himself through it. 

He wanted to savor every taste, every moment, every moan and gasp and catch of her breath as he touched her. 

“Which is your room?” he whispered in her ear. 

“Second door on the left,” she said, her eyes still closed and head tilted back. 

“Right,” he glanced over, judging the distance, before pulling her into his arms and walking her backward to her doorway. “You have two choices now,” he said quietly, skimming his lips over her cheek and stifling a laugh at the way she turned her head to try to capture his lips with her own. 

“You can either give me tea, we can talk and then I can go home for the night. That’s option one,” he nudged her head to the side, allowing him access to the line of her neck. “Or, you can let me make love to you, and then have tea after.” He bit the line of muscle running from her neck to her shoulder. “It’s up to you. But I need you to choose now.”

She blinked owlishly up at him. 

“One or two, Ellacott?”

“Two,” she whispered. 

“Thank fuck,” he groaned as he pulled her handbag over her head, dropping it to the floor while she shucked her coat, dropping it on top of the handbag. Her hands immediately rose and began pushing his own coat off his shoulders. It fell to the floor behind him, gathered into a heap at the back of his heels, as his fingers started on the tiny buttons of her blouse, wrenching them open as quickly as he could while he tugged the shirt out of her waistband so she could let it slide down her arms to pool on the floor. 

His mouth was already on her, warm lips sliding along the low neckline of her plain white camisole. She lost track of what she’d been doing as his tongue dipped into the space between her breasts. His hand skimmed up to cup her breast through lace, thumb stroking just beside the swiftly tightening nipple. 

He propelled her slowly through the doorway into her room, guiding her gently to the edge of the bed, before stepping slightly back. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, though they were hazed with rampant need, smoky blue leveling him with a look so full of desire his knees almost buckled. But he waited. Giving her one last chance, despite his earlier offer of choices, to make this decision fully. 

Just as he opened his mouth to ask her if she was sure, she reached for him, tiptoeing up to capture his lips as her quick fingers started on the buttons to his shirt. He helped her clumsily, pulling the shirt from his waistband as she shoved it from his shoulders. Her breasts were cupped in white lace that he traced with his fingers as her head fell back. Wrapping an arm around her waist he dragged her against him again, lowering his head to the gentle slope of skin rising from the lace, groaning softly as her hands tangled in his hair again, her nails scratching his scalp gently as her grip tightened the closer he got to her nipple. 

The noise she made when he tugged the lace below her breast, baring the swollen nipple to his mouth, was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard in his life. A moan, a groan and a whimper, all in one. He licked and sucked, biting gently as she squirmed, hips swiveling, trying to get closer to him. 

He reached behind her, unhooking the bra and slipping it away, then shifting to pay the same attention to the other breast as she clutched his shoulder, the ends of her hair brushing against his fingers as her head fell back again. 

“Oh my God, Cormoran,” she moaned, as her fingers slipped to his belt buckle, then his fly, then sliding into his boxers. He almost went to his knees as her soft fingers wrapped around him, squeezing firmly, her thumb rubbing across the slit at the top of his cock. 

“Fuck,” he whispered.

“Oh,” she pulled away slightly, misunderstanding. He grabbed her wrist, holding it gently and looking her in the eye. 

“That feels so good,” he kissed her softly. “So fucking good that I won’t be able to last if you keep doing it.” He watched as something approaching triumph flickered in her eyes, before he allowed his eyes to skim down her body. 

“Ellacott,” he bit his lip, reaching out to stroke the side of a breast with the backs of his fingers. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Yeah?” she asked softly.

“Absolutely,” he stepped closer, sliding both hands along her ribcage, to the waistband of her trousers.

In a few quick movements he was pushing her gently to sit on the side of the bed as he pulled her trousers away, revealing matching white lace knickers, and long, pale, freckled legs. The long muscles in her thighs flexed as she scooted herself back on the bed, making room for him to join her. 

He slid his unbuttoned trousers down and sat, removing the shoe on his remaining foot, and sliding his leg out. He felt the bed behind him moving gently, before he felt her warm skin, soft breasts, pressing against his back as she wrapped her arms around him from behind, peppering his shoulders with small kisses as he dealt with removing his prosthesis. She was easing up his neck, nuzzling behind his ear and he reached a hand up, burying it in her hair and turning his head to capture her lips with his own as he leaned back, laying across her bed, and drawing her down with him so that she was lying beside him. 

He allowed his fingers to glide down her back, tracing the ridge of her spine before sliding around to cup her core through cotton and lace. The heat of her set him afire with the need to feel her wrapped around him. 

Her mouth was still busy at his neck, her breath grazing his ear.

He rippled the fingers cupping her and smiled inwardly at the hitch in her breathing it caused. 

“I want to feel you, Robin.” He turned his head to kiss her, as he tugged her knickers from her hips, with her help, those long legs slipping against his as she slid them off and twisted to him, sliding a leg over his hips, straddling him, her core coming to rest just above where his boxers were tenting. 

She knelt there, her hands pressed to his chest, as she bit her lip. “Yours need to go too,” she whispered, tugging the elastic of his boxers gently, then lifting slightly to allow him to slide the waistband down and away. 

She kept her eyes on his as she slowly lowered her heat to the ridge below her. Her head dipped back again, revealing the length of her neck as he arched, pressing up against her wetness, sliding through the soft folds, coating his cock in the silkiness she offered him. Teasing himself with her warm wetness, nearly shuddering with the need to plunge deeply into her. 

He groaned as she slid her hips back and then slowly forward again. “Fucking hell…You’re going to kill me.”

He heard a chuff of air from her, an almost laugh, as she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, closing her eyes as she slid along him again. “Feels good.”

Unable to take it anymore, he toppled her, rolling over her and palming one breast as he caught the nipple of the other lightly between his teeth and tugged gently, smiling inwardly as she arched toward him with a hissed sound of pleasure. He bit gently, then soothed the bite with gentle strokes of his tongue as he pinched and rolled her other nipple between his fingers, mimicking his mouth. 

Her hand came to his, cupping her own breast over his hand, squeezing her nipple with him and the sight of her hand, clasping her own breast nearly made him lose control completely. He slid his hand out from under hers, “You take care of this one for me,” he hummed as he rose up on an elbow to kiss her. “I’m going to explore a little. Is that okay?” he asked as he nuzzled her neck, letting a hand drift down, brushing gently over strawberry curls and rippling against the soft, damp folds she’d just teased him with. 

She bent a knee up, opening herself to him a bit more, in answer. “Good,” he drawled, as he kissed his way down her body. Nuzzling her navel with his nose, pressing biting kisses to her hip bones and lightly sucking the soft pale skin of her abdomen. Keeping his hand busy playing against her folds, spreading her moisture, gently dipping just the tip of a finger into her heat, reveling in the way her hips bucked slightly and her sharp intake of air. 

He slid to the floor, kneeling beside her bed, and gazed up at the intensely erotic sight of Robin, laid across the bed like a feast for his eyes, hands and mouth. All that soft and creamy bare skin, just for him. He nearly shook with the need to taste her. 

He eased himself between her legs, dipping his shoulders so that her thighs draped over them. He turned his head, rubbing the stubble he’d neglected to shave this morning against the inside of her thigh, the corner of his mouth lifting as he felt the long, lean muscles beneath his cheek flex. He kissed the soft skin there, as he used his thumbs to spread the folds of her core, nearly groaning at the slickness gathered there. Raising his eyes to her face, he leaned forward and dragged the flat of his tongue along her heat, relishing the arch of her back and the gasping whimper she emitted as his tongue glided over the bundle of nerves above where he most wanted to be. 

He sucked gently, almost languidly, as he slid two fingers into her, pumping them gently, keeping up the rhythm that her hips were now setting for him as she moaned his name brokenly and buried her hands in his hair, holding his head to her. 

She writhed against his tongue, telling him with her gasps and murmurs and moans exactly where she liked to be licked and sucked, how fast, how hard, how soft, until finally she tensed, the muscles in her thighs tightening, back arching, as she trembled. 

Robin, climaxing against his tongue, fluttering and clamping against his fingers, and moaning his name, was a memory he knew he’d never forget. 

Even as she was tugging him up her body so that she could kiss him, he was committing the feel of her, the taste of her, to memory. 

He kissed her deeply, smoothing her hair away from her face, feeling the last of her trembles as he gathered her close and gently, slowly, slipped inside her. 

Her eyelashes, darkened by mascara, fluttered closed as her neck arched, an invitation for his mouth as he began to rock gently against her. 

The feel of her around his cock was breathtaking. Her hips strained to meet him, trying to speed his thrusts, but he refused to be rushed. 

“Slowly, Ellacott,” he whispered before gently nipping her earlobe. “You feel so good, wrapped around me like this.” He propped himself on an elbow and palmed a breast, rubbing her nipple with his thumb in the same slow rhythm of his hips. “You’re so soft and wet and hot.” He slid his hand from her breast to her hip. “Your skin, just here,” he trailed the tips of his fingers over her hip bone, where the skin was thin and soft, “so smooth and fine. I could make a meal of you, Ellacott.”

He felt her muscles clamping around him and increased his rhythm in response, gritting his teeth against the overwhelming need to come, refusing to allow it until she was with him. “I’m so in love with you Robin,” he told her, as her eyes fluttered open and collided with his. They were dark, glazed with passion and need. “I can’t stop and I don’t want to.” 

Her hand found his, tangled in soft bed sheets, squeezing softly as she lifted the other to his face, her skin rasping against his stubble as he turned his head and kissed her palm. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to let go, urging her gently with him. 

Just as he felt the pressure gathering in the base of his spine and the feeling of lightning beginning to sizzle from his toes to his abdomen, he slid a hand between them, finding her clit and rubbing gently. She gasped and cried out, her walls clenching around him, and he plunged over the edge with a quiet groan, before being wrapped in soft arms as she pulled him down, cradling him against her as they trembled together. 

His head rested against her shoulder, his lips pressed to her neck, not quite kissing her, but resting against her pulse, feeling it slowing as he breathed her in while she stroked his hair, kissing his forehead and tangling her other fingers with his over her breast. 

“I love you too,” she whispered. 


End file.
